


The Only Weapon We Have Is Our Trust in Each Other

by thekeyholder



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-01-25 19:40:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12539660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeyholder/pseuds/thekeyholder
Summary: Jim Gordon is a famous vampire hunter whose travels lead him to Transylvania. Wounded after a vicious attack, he stumbles on the property of the mysterious Count Kapelput, who is also a vampire, though he claims he doesn't drink human blood. In order to prove that he's telling the truth, the Count invites Gordon to stay with him and convince himself that he is a good vampire.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feurio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feurio/gifts).



> Hi, everyone! This is my entry for Gobblepot Halloween 2017. :D Ever since Gotham confirmed that Gertrud is Hungarian, my heart has been making somersaults. I know I already have some fics with Hungarian elements/references, but well, expect even more here. I was born not very far from the "real" Dracula castle. I cannot claim that I know the area, as I mostly just spent lots of summers in Brasov county, but I know the Transylvanian landscape, customs and so on. Of course, take everything with a pinch of salt, I twisted facts for the benefit of the story.
> 
> Many thanks to feurio for letting me use her story idea and big shoutout to Nekomata58919 for the beta!
> 
> This story would lie in a ditch dead if it weren't for my bestie, skeleton_twins. She's basically the backbone of this fic, helped me with ideas, outlining and, especially, listen to me complain and panic. Thank you so much!!! <3

A lone traveller rode through the thick night, the soft rustling of the forest covering the little noise the hooves made on the ground. This was uncharted territory for both the horse and the rider who was wincing with each step, clutching his left side. He raised his trembling fingers from the wound and held them up ‒ they shone black in the pale light of the moon. He needed shelter for the night, he had to lie down and treat the wound… the rider could see lights ahead, beckoning him, promising safety. He smiled deliriously as his head fell forward.

 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he woke with a start. The pain was excruciating; each step sending a jolt of pain through his body. 

 

“Let’s stop here, Milady,” he mumbled, petting the horse’s neck.

 

When he dismounted the horse, however, his knees buckled and he fell hard on his right arm. He rolled onto his back, crying, his left hand moving to the wound. He focused on the distant light of the stars that peeked through the foliage as he tried to regulate his breathing, but every inhalation burnt his lungs.

 

After a while, he managed to gather his strength and crawl to a tree, slowly turning and leaning against it. He wiped his forehead, trying to focus even as his vision blurred at the edges. Although he had no idea where they were and the only light he could see now was the one coming from the moon, the rider decided to stay the night there and try to get some help at dawn. There had to be a village nearby…

 

The horse neighed softly as she pressed her muzzle against the rider’s temple.

 

“I’m alright,” he breathed, patting her cheek, then reached for the bag by her side, all the while wincing as he pressed against the wound. He poked around until he found the canteen and he drank greedily, water trickling down his chin. He hoped it would clear his mind, give him strength, or at the very least abate his worries, but none of those things happened. The traveller suspected that if he fell asleep, he might not wake up in the morning.

 

Even though he was fighting against fatigue, he tried to concentrate on something to keep him awake. However, the forest was mostly quiet, the leaves of the tree rustling in the breeze. The traveller looked up at the way the branches were swinging and for a moment ‒ or was it longer? ‒ he was back in the garden from his childhood, swaying in a hammock. 

 

“Oh, dear.”

 

At the sound of the unexpected voice, the rider tried to sit up straighter, straining his eyes to see who was approaching. He patted his belt, fingers enclosing around his gun’s handle.

 

“Who’s there? Show yourself!”

 

The traveller shivered as a figure slowly emerged from the darkness, graceful and untroubled, as if it belonged to the night. It was a young man, with the blackest hair and fairest complexion, thin lips stretched into a smile as he stepped forward. The rider knew that kind of inaudible movement, the slow and deliberate steps and predatory glance.

 

The gun would be useless.

 

“Stay back, bloodsucker! Don’t you dare come closer!”

 

But the man didn’t stop, he got closer as the traveller desperately searched his bag for a more effective weapon, his breathing turning erratic. Sweat covered his forehead and he blinked several times, scooting back as the figure kneeled down in front of him.

 

“What have you gotten yourself into, little hunter?” The creature asked, turning its head.

 

The traveller was shivering from the pain and fear equally, even as his hand curled around a stake. He knew he was going to die by the hands of the vampire, but he wouldn’t go down without a fight, even though he could barely keep his eyes open.

 

“Now, now, Mr. Gordon, put that stake down before you hurt yourself,” the vampire said and got closer to the man, pressing his hand against his wound.

 

“What do you think you’re doing?!” the man asked, even as the stake slipped from his weak grip, head thudding heavily against the trunk of the tree.

 

The vampire raised his pale eyes from the wound to the traveller’s face. “Saving your life, hunter, even though you don’t deserve it.”

 

That was the last thing the vampire hunter heard before he passed out.

 

* * *

 

He was in the softest bed he’d been in the past five years, so warm and comfortable he thought he was sleeping on a cloud. The sheets smelled clean and fresh and he wanted to slip lower, to bury himself deeper, but the sudden movement caused pain to flare up in his left side. He moaned and whimpered and tried to cover the pain with his hand, but someone took his hand, guiding it back to where it lay beside his body.

 

Then someone put their hand on his forehead, the cold touch soothing his feverish skin. He sighed with relief as the fingers caressed his cheek.

 

“Sleep, hunter,” the voice shushed him and he fell back into a deep sleep.

  
  


Jim awoke slowly, not opening his eyes, just enjoying the comfort of his bed. It wasn’t his own bed, but one even more comfortable. Many minutes passed until he started questioning whose bed it could be and how he got there. Then suddenly the memory from that night struck him and his eyes popped open. He was ready to jump out of bed and run.

 

“You’re finally awake, Mr. Gordon.”

 

Jim’s head snapped to the left corner, where the man, no,  _ vampire  _ stood, leaning against a cane. What was happening? Why was he still alive? Who was this person? Why did he feel so weak?

 

“How do you know my name?!”

 

The vampire rolled his eyes, as if Jim had asked a stupid question. “Please. Everyone knows the famous James Gordon. News of your being in the area also travelled fast. Not even speaking about your scent all over  _ my  _ forest. A scent which I have smelled before, around the corpses of other vampires.”

 

Jim swallowed; he might have been alive, but maybe not for much longer. A quick glance around the room made it clear that there were no weapons, and nothing he could use as such, as the bedroom was quite minimalistic. However, Jim could see his clothes and bag all neatly piled on a nearby chair. 

 

“Who the hell are you then?”

 

A look of offence passed the vampire’s face, before he was about to step forward.

 

“No! Stay there!” Jim exclaimed, fist bunching into the pillow.

 

The vampire seemed displeased, but didn’t move. “I’m not going to hurt you. You know, if I wanted you dead, you would be drained already. Anyway, I’m Count Oswald Chesterfield Kapelput.”

 

Jim blinked, head woozy. “Count?”

 

“That’s what I said. Did you also suffer hearing loss in addition to blood loss?”

 

Recoiling from the sharp comeback, Jim made up his mind to leave the place as quickly as possible. He wasn’t sure what this bloodsucker wanted, but it was bad news. He threw off the duvet from himself, momentarily blushing at the sight of his undress. Did the vampire…? Never mind that, at least he was in his long johns.

 

“What do you think you’re doing, Mr. Gordon?!”

 

Jim flinched at the irritated voice, just as his hand flew to his bandaged wound. It didn’t hurt as much as before, but he felt weak. Cursing under his breath, he managed to get on his feet, all the while clutching the nightstand and hoping that he wouldn’t fall on his face. This was a bad idea, but he had to get away.

 

Cold fingers gripped his forearm. “Mr. Gordon! Go back to bed!”

 

“Like hell I will!” Jim exclaimed, looking into the vampire’s cold eyes and extracting himself from his hold.

 

Not deeming it wise to turn his back to the vampire, Jim had to put on his trousers facing him. However, to the bloodsucker’s credit, he turned away once he realised what Jim was about to do.

 

“You were seriously injured, hunter. You should rest for at least another three days.”

 

“I will do as I goddamn please!” Jim growled, face scrunching up as he bent to put his boots on, his breathing loud even for his ears.  _ Don’t faint, don’t faint _ , he told himself as he took his bag.

 

Kapelput made a few steps towards him and it was only then that Jim noticed his limp. So the cane wasn't just affectation. But a vampire with a limp? That was unheard of, they were supposed to heal ten times faster than humans, hence why it was wise to kill them on the first try. Maybe he wasn’t...? But he was, he had to be. The room’s windows were completely covered, the space illuminated by candles only, and his face had the pallor of the walking dead. The vampire’s eyes shone in the warm light as he put his hand on Jim’s shoulder.

 

“I beg of you, Mr. Gordon, stay for a few days. No one will bother you here, it’s a safe place. You should respect my work to bring you back from the threshold of death and allow your body to heal. Your bandage will soak through with all your movement.”

 

Later, Jim would think back on this moment as a foolish one caused by fever. He pushed Kapelput against the nearest wall, leaning in so that the bloodsucker got his point. “I am going to walk out of here and you cannot stop me.”

 

The vampire pinched his thin lips together. “Well, I won’t hold you against your will.”

 

Jim smirked, letting go of Kapelput’s expensive-looking suit. “No. But I’ll be back to hunt you.”

 

“Looking forward to it,” the vampire replied with a faux smile.

 

Jim yanked open the door, stepping into a dim hallway. It seemed like there was an exit on the right and he ended up on the top of the stairs. Just a bit and he would be out of there. Every step hurt his side, but Jim forced himself to take them as fast as he could. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, before continuing to the main door.

 

“Wrong way, hunter. Take the back exit, it’s closer to the stables. I assume you want to take your pony with you?”

 

If he hadn’t been hurt, Jim would have run up the stairs and fought the vampire with his bare hands. Alas, he just looked up and glared at the grinning bloodsucker one last time before he left, fuming.

 

“Good day,  _ hentes _ !” the creature yelled after him and Jim slammed the door shut, only half curious about what that word meant. An insult, no doubt.

  
  


After he stumbled out of the building, Jim hurried to the stables, almost tripping over the grass as he tried to keep his balance. He looked behind his shoulder several times, convinced that the whole ‘I’m not going to hurt you’ attitude the bloodsucker put on was just for show. Only when he made it to the stables did Jim realise how huge the estate was.

 

“He actually lives in a freaking castle, goddamn,” Jim swore breathily, blinking frequently since he was seeing stars from the quick pace.

 

Luckily, Milady was there, happily munching on some hay. Even in his state, however, Jim noticed that the stable was rather dirty, as if it stood unused for ages. The vampire probably didn’t have much use for it.

 

“Come on, girl, let’s get out of this slum,” Jim said, then strapped his bag to the saddle and got on the horse with a pained moan, riding away at full speed. “Can’t believe that beast dared to put you in such a place. But don’t worry, I’ll get him.”

 

* * *

 

It took Jim more than half an hour of galloping to reach the closest city – there were a few houses dispersed on the way, so he reckoned that he wouldn’t be able to find the supplies he needed. Besides, maybe the townsfolk could help him out with information about the creature. Jim did find it very strange that he hadn’t heard about this vampire before, even though he’d been in Transylvania for the past two months, cleaning the region of these pests. Their presence usually meant unexpected and unusual deaths. 

 

His first stop was at a doctor’s, who bandaged his wound again, praising the well-done stitching and recommending Jim at least a few days of rest. Jim Gordon, however, was a very stubborn man and didn’t say anything, just paid and left in a hurry, so he could go back and finish his job by the time night came.

 

He stocked up on food and water, making sure that he had about a week’s supply. Jim tried to ask the people around about strange deaths or any unusual events, but everyone shrugged when he mentioned the words  _ strigoi  _ or  _ vámpír _ . They could only tell him about stories they heard from other travellers, of vampires that Jim had already killed a while ago and gossip he didn’t care for. 

 

How could the beast fool them this way? Did he prey on the weak and helpless, or the scum of society, so that when they disappeared no one noticed? Jim also asked the locals about strange diseases, as he’d encountered vampires who would take just enough blood so they would leave their victims alive, but he was met with negative responses again. Of course, this didn’t mean anything. Kapelput seemed to be a cunning bastard, but Jim was an even bigger one.

 

Jim noticed that the questions started making the people nervous, so he decided to stop by a nearby tavern to ask more about a certain count, if anyone knew anything. After a few drinks, the owner and the customers all opened up to Jim, though they weren’t as useful as he’d hoped.

 

“Oh, Kapelput? Yeah, yeah, there’s this castle not that far away from here, close to Magura. I don’t know what’s the truth, though. Some say it’s empty, others say the heir visits it a few times a year, to check if everything is alright.”

 

The second man scoffed. “It’s obviously not empty. I even saw the Count last year, it was the end of October or so. He was dressed in all black and had this huge black umbrella. I only noticed him from the shop window because it was a downpour and he was the only one walking. Had this heavy limp too.”

 

Jim frowned; that indeed sounded like the vampire he met. Obviously, he would only dare to go outside on cloudy days when his skin would not be burnt by sunlight. The whole tavern seemed to have gathered around them by then, everyone knowing a story or two about the famous Count Kapelput. It seemed like he had grown into a local legend, someone even threw in that he was a vampire, a suggestion met with derision, but no one seemed sure if he really existed. Even the man who claimed to have seen him was discouraged by his louder peers, saying that he must have confused him with someone else.

 

Having decided that he heard enough and it was getting dark anyway, Jim took his bag and wanted to quickly slip away. However, before he could go, the owner of the tavern stopped him.

 

“Don’t listen to those fools. The Count exists, he came back not long ago. He usually only orders food and wine once a week which we deliver every Thursday, but a few days ago he sent for some extra food.”

 

Jim nodded thoughtfully, wondering what a vampire might do with food and drink. The last order was no doubt for him, when the vampire found him. Jim had vague memories of being fed, which he tried to forget. Nevertheless, in all his career, Jim had never encountered a bloodsucker that also consumed regular food. Although it was also true that Jim hadn’t really observed the lifestyle of vampires, he was too busy massacring them.

 

“Friendly advice,” the tavern owner said, leaning in closer. “Don’t go bothering him. He’s a very nice, but reclusive man, always busy with his studies. Mrs. Kalman, from the bookshop, always says how much paper and ink he orders from her.”

 

“No worries, he knows I’m coming,” Jim grunted, then tipped his hat and left.

 

* * *

 

Jim had been camping on the Kapelput estate for a couple of days, observing the castle with utmost attentiveness. He had found a great, hidden spot in the forest, beside a boulder from where he had a great vantage point. 

 

He had to admit that the bloodsucker lived in one of the most gorgeous places Jim had ever seen. On his way back from the small town, he had more time to inspect the area. Lush forests spread across the soft hills, the trees dressed in the splendid colour of autumn, from pale yellow to a deep, burgundy red. Here and there, an evergreen peeked out, making the tableau complete. In the distance, the Carpathians rose high towards the sky, the cliffs sharp and magnificent. Jim drew in a shaky breath, body hurting with the beauty of nature and his wound in equal measure.

 

On a more positive note, keeping his eyes on the Kapelput castle was quite a nice task for Jim, compared to the places he had to observe in the past while waiting for a beast. Jim finally got to see the front of the building which was even more imposing. The castle, painted in a nice peach colour, also had a patio, with many potted plants and trees decorating. There was also a neat garden and a small fountain with two small statues, the water trickling cheerily.

 

Jim had no idea why some people thought the place was empty ‒ it looked well cared for and clean, no sign of neglect. But it was also true that the castle was quite off the road, and no villager would just wander into the area, so the vampire had all the privacy he needed. He was also wealthy and probably paid the people nicely, so they could be harbouring his secrets. 

 

But why would he bother with Jim, though? The beast could have killed him so easily. Based on their brief encounter, Jim could tell Kapelput was a rather eccentric figure, so he could have just been toying with Jim, keep him for later, when he would become thirsty.

 

As an unexpectedly chilly wind blew through the trees, Jim hunched his shoulders and coughed, getting angrier and colder by the minute. He wondered if there was any point to his ambush; in the few days he’d been waiting, Jim hadn’t noticed any movement. Of course, all the windows were covered, but there was no noise, nothing. Maybe the vampire had fled after Jim’s departure, although it didn’t seem very probable.  

 

Milady seemed extremely bored with the waiting and Jim shared the feeling. He threw his binoculars on the ground, pulling together his leather jacket. He looked at the sky with angry eyes, as big, fat clouds rolled in, robbing Jim even of the dappled sunlight. This would be another terrible night, Jim thought with resignation as he got inside his tent.

 

Not much later, the wind picked up even more, the branches of the pine trees swaying ever wildly. The first raindrops soon followed, huge and cold, hitting harshly the thin material of Jim’s tent. In a matter of minutes, everything was soaking wet and Jim wriggled out of it, trying to shield his possessions. Lightning flashed across the night sky, illuminating the castle, the thunder so loud out there that it shook the ground. 

 

Despite becoming a whimpering and shivering mess, Jim refused to move, to ride away and find shelter. However, he was glad that he had put his blanket over Milady, though the poor horse was most probably soaked to the skin too, so it wouldn’t make much of a difference. Jim’s hat and jacket were quite ineffective in keeping the water away, and he leaned against the boulder with a pained whimper. He was miserable, cold, and his lungs hurt from coughing so much. Jim regretted the day he was born.

 

Even though it was raining cats and dogs, Jim’s eyes felt heavy. He hadn’t slept well or enough in the past days, the hunt keeping him awake late into the night. His body would go in and out of sleep, but he would always jump awake when there was a thunder.

 

Jim moaned softly as he tried to turn, every movement hurting, when in the brief moment of lightning he seemed to have noticed something moving. A couple of minutes later, the vampire was hobbling over to where he sat. 

 

“Honestly, Mr. Gordon, I would have offered you accommodation for the night if you had only asked.”

 

“I would never ask a vampire for help!” Jim grumbled, crossing his arms. The movement made his wound hurt and he winced.

 

Kapelput, of course, saw it and rolled his eyes. “Of course, because dying of pneumonia and an infected wound is better than asking a vampire for help.”

 

“Piss off!”

 

“Very mature. You’re coming with me this instant, hunter!”

 

“No.” Jim tried to get up, but then a coughing fit made him double over.

 

The vampire sighed. “I could hear you cough your lungs out from the other side of the castle. I don’t care what you say, I’m taking you with me.”

 

Suddenly, Jim found himself being lifted, his legs dangling in the air as Kapelput picked him up, bridal style.

 

“Are you insane? What are you doing?!”

 

“Taking you inside, you stupid human. It’s faster if I’m carrying you,” the vampire said and in the light of a flash Jim could see how serious he looked, wet hair stuck to his forehead and piercing look in his eyes.

 

Jim’s breathing hitched for a moment, but then he started thrashing again. “No, let me go, you beast!”

 

Oswald didn’t stop, though, he continued his jogging which was impressive with his limp. He even whistled for Milady, who followed them with a soft neigh.

 

“See, even your horse is more clever than you,” Kapelput said and Jim could hear the smirk in his voice. “Please stop moving, we’ll get to the castle sooner.”

 

Jim huffed; the vampire was holding him so securely that there was no point in trying to get away. For better balance, Jim put his left arm around Kapelput’s neck, albeit reluctantly. He knew he should have fought tooth and nail against the vampire, but he was so exhausted, he couldn’t do it. Jim’s head fell slightly against Kapelput’s shoulder and his nose was hit with an exquisite perfume, flowery and spicy at the same time. Jim inadvertently breathed in deeper, the smell comforting and enticing. Of course, he quickly dismissed that thought and was relieved when he saw that they were almost at the entrance.

 

“Alright, you can put me down now.”

 

The vampire didn’t listen to Jim; he carried the hunter up the stairs and on to the patio. He opened the door with one hand and carefully maneuvered Jim inside. Only when they were completely inside did Kapelput put Jim down. For a moment, they were incredibly close, Jim’s left arm still around the vampire’s neck and they stared at each other. Jim couldn’t help a sigh as warmth hit him and Kapelput’s eyes fell to his parted lips. Then brusquely, they let go of each other, Jim rubbing his flushed cheeks.

 

“I can’t believe I had to get rained on because of a silly hunter who can’t take care of himself,” Kapelput mumbled, brushing his hair back and limping to the stairs.

 

Jim just stood there, panting and dripping water on the rug. The vampire looked back at him. “Well, what are you waiting for? Want me to carry you again?”

 

“Shut up,” Jim mumbled, but followed him, back to the room where he woke up a few days prior.

 

Everything was the same, but now there was a nice fire burning in the fireplace, making the room warm and welcoming.

 

“Wait here,” the vampire said before he disappeared, Jim looking tiredly after him.

 

He couldn’t believe he was in the damn bloodsucker’s castle again. Jim was either stupid or reckless. Or both. He was about to leave the room when Kapelput came back, holding something in his arms. He was measuring Jim with critical eyes. “I brought you some dry clothes.”

 

“I swear, if you’re trying to do something, I’m going to stake you!”

 

Kapelput just raised his eyebrows, looking very unimpressed. He handed Jim the clothes and went to the door. “I’ll put your pony in the stable, you go to bed. Good night,  _ hentes _ !”

 

Jim frowned; he really needed to ask what that word meant. He changed into warm clothes and then crawled into the toasty bed, sighing with satisfaction. Tomorrow. He’ll do everything tomorrow. Wipe that smirk off Kapelput’s face and kill him. But now, he needed sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! Here's the new chapter, hope you enjoy it! I forgot to mention it before that Oswald is based on Romanian vampire myths, so you might find differences from Western ones. :)
> 
> As always, huge thank you to Nekomata58919 for the beta and skeleton_twins for her infinite support and help!

Oswald had stayed up all night in his office, listening to the agitated sounds made by the hunter, every sigh and huff that left his lips, the swish of the bedsheets and his pained whimpers. He patiently waited until Gordon woke up five hours later, though he knew that the wound needed to be cleaned yet again. He also knew it would be difficult to convince the hunter to accept his help, since Gordon was as stubborn as a mule. But he wouldn’t let the hunter leave prematurely, not again. He’d lock Gordon in his room if needed.

 

The vampire wasn’t sure why he took Gordon in his care. The first time, he had been outside, inspecting his forest, checking that his trees and animals were doing well when suddenly, the wind carried the smell of human blood, and together with it fear and confusion. Someone needed help and Oswald was willing to provide it.

 

However, as he got closer, there was a new smell, one that he’d felt previously, in very dark situations. The first time, it was in Bath, the summer of 1896, and Oswald had almost accidentally walked in on Gordon and another hunter carrying away the corpse of a middle-aged female vampire. That was the first and last time Oswald actually saw the hunter. Back then, he wasn’t as well known yet on the new continent, but soon news started travelling in vampire circles and then in the media as well. His nickname from America, The Butcher, was picked up by British newspapers too.

 

The next time, Oswald was living in Montmartre with one of his few friends, Eugenie, a vampire who also tried to convert to only drinking animal blood. This time it was 1898 and the Parisian elite was already acquainted with Gordon, the reporters following his every hunt. He claimed to rid the city of its ‘very serious vampire infestation’. Some were worried, others laughed off the bold statement, but soon the bodies started piling up in what later would be called the Parisian Purge.

 

Oswald was often confronted with the glassy eyes of his peers staring at the night sky, now completely lifeless.

 

“Look at this savagery,” Jean, one of Eugenie’s friends, said as he pointed at one of the corpses. “Gordon and his gang are now defiling bodies.”

 

The poor vampire ‒ who was stuck in the body of a young man who didn’t look older than twenty ‒ was cut up morbidly, heart torn out as if done by a wild animal and the empty cavity filled with garlic. The other body was simply staked, which was a much more respectful and humane method. Oswald wasn’t sure, but he thought he could mostly feel Gordon’s scent around the latter body. Which wasn’t excusable, of course, but made it easier for Oswald to reconcile with the strange feeling in his gut.

 

 _He’s dangerous_ , Oswald thought. _He’s fatal_.

 

The fluttering of his stomach didn’t care.

 

Oswald could sense that a war was about to start and he had decided to get out of there before he was caught in the middle. He told Eugenie that it was time for him to move on and he invited her to accompany him. They could go anywhere, perhaps Vienna, Stockholm or maybe to St. Petersburg, just to be sure. Eugenie smiled and patted Oswald face, and he knew then that she would turn him down.

 

“I know you are used to travelling, to moving about, Oswald, but I’m not. I’ve lived all my life in Paris, so an American hunter and his crazy followers don’t scare me.”

 

“But you said yourself, his fame is growing ever bigger and the people joining his cause are absolutely rabid, gratifying their sadistic tendencies in these vampire hunts,” Oswald pleaded. “Come with me, just for a couple of years and then maybe we can return to Paris.”

 

Unfortunately, nothing could convince his friend, so with a heavy heart, Oswald bought a single train ticket to Heidelberg. He kept his eyes and ears open, constantly worried for his French friends. Things grew so barbaric that it was bound to violently explode. After the murders of some ‘real people’ by ‘confused’ hunters, Gordon disbanded his gang, declaring to the newspapers that he would stay on the old continent, but hunt alone from then on.

 

Of course, that didn’t meant that things weren’t still very dangerous for vampires. Oswald knew that there was no point in returning to Paris or London ‒ it seemed like every place Gordon set his foot on became cursed, people suddenly realising that they needed to kill every vampire in sight in the most bloodthirsty way. Of course, this violent streak had always been in people, lying dormant, but Gordon had enabled it, freed it as if he had opened the door of a caged wild animal.

 

So Oswald went to the east, first to Prague and then to Budapest, always chased further by the news of Gordon travelling even deeper into the continent, ravaging everything in his way like a storm. The newspapers always narrated his successful missions and the gutter press didn’t shy away from publishing gruesome pictures. Although Oswald didn’t particularly feel connected to other vampires, this sudden bane that Gordon represented bothered and angered him. It could so easily ruin his carefully crafted life…

 

By the end of 1903, Oswald had to admit that it was time to go home, a couple of years earlier than expected, although it would still be believable that he was the new heir of the old count ‒ that is, himself ‒ who had retired to Paris. In addition, he decided to spend late springs and summers, when people were out and about, somewhere else and to go hunting as far as possible, so that the villagers wouldn’t suspect anything. The story of a recluse count had worked so far.

 

Then about six weeks ago, Oswald heard about Gordon’s first kill in Transylvania. News travelled slower here; the media didn’t make such a big deal of the hunter’s appearance since most people had never heard of him. Even those who knew about the Parisian Purge regarded his arrival as a bad omen. A stranger adamant on killing local vampires? _No, thank you, we can deal with our own problems_ , most people thought. Oswald had smirked at the knowledge that Gordon was received with hostility in aristocratic circles, and he hoped that it would discourage the hunter from prolonging his stay.

 

But as Oswald learned since he personally met him, Gordon was a stubborn bastard. He went after vampires who were as old as the hills, whom even Oswald feared. No one would have dared to even bother these creatures, as they were an integral part of the land, keeping together magic and reality. Besides, according to myths, they rarely fed and spent most of their time deep in the woods, sleeping, so there really was no point in provoking their fury.

 

From what Oswald could tell, it was such an ancient vampire that had harmed Gordon, piercing his side with a long and sharp claw. How the hunter managed to escape was a mystery, but he probably hurt the vampire as well, and so it must have decided to let the petty human go, not worth chasing after. Oswald shook his head, he couldn’t believe how lucky this stupid, reckless human was.

 

But Oswald also had to chide himself for his own recklessness. After all these events, he still decided to save Gordon. No one would have known if he’d let the hunter die under that tree or even killed him. No one would have blamed him either. However, he couldn’t have done that, he knew his own mother would have wanted Oswald to take in Gordon and heal him with his talents.

 

Besides, Oswald felt as if he didn’t really have a choice: for some reason, when he went to look for the source of the blood, it was as if he was being pulled, attracted towards something, like an iron nail to a magnet. When Jim’s smell mingled with that of the blood, Oswald closed his eyes and let the flutter in his stomach overtake his whole body. He had fled from Gordon and his alluring scent through several countries and several years, perhaps it was time to stop.

 

Deep in his thoughts, Oswald opened the drawer of his desk, taking out the stake that he had secretly confiscated from Gordon during the first visit. It was one made from hawthorn, though local legends claimed that wild rosewood or ash would work best. He tried the sharp point with his finger, swallowing. He knew that driven through his heart, it would kill him, regardless of the material it was made from.

 

Oswald also had no doubts that Gordon had made a new one since then and probably kept it under his pillow. Right now, he wasn’t well enough to kill Oswald, but he’d been recovering rather fast, so he would soon regain his strength. Despite his superhuman capabilities, Oswald was slightly unnerved; after all, he had seen what Gordon was capable of. However, he hoped he could change the hunter’s mind and maybe extend their current truce.

 

Oswald sighed as he got up from his chair and decided to check on the hunter before he fell asleep again. Armed with clean bandages and various ointments and vials, he knocked on the door before opening it. Gordon was lying in the bed, back against the pillows he propped up. Oswald could smell that the hunter had washed away the grime and sickly sweat from his body.

 

“Good morning, Mr. Gordon. Glad to see you haven’t tried to run away this time.” The remark only earned a grimace from the hunter. “I trust you slept well?”

 

“As well as one can in a vampire’s house,” Gordon said in his usual rude tone that made Oswald want to punch him. Men these days, they had no manners!

 

“I told you already, I will not harm you,” Oswald said as he set down the supplies on the nightstand, Gordon watching him warily.

 

“Yes, I already know how much a bloodsucker’s promise is worth.”

 

If he weren’t upset, Oswald would have laughed at Gordon’s insolence. “If you hadn’t run away the last time like you did, you would have found out much sooner that all this hatred against me is pointless.”

 

“Why, aren’t you a vampire?”

 

Oswald sat down on the bed, trying not to be offended at how Gordon recoiled. “Yes, I am. But contrary to what you think, I do _not_ consume human blood. I haven’t actually in almost a hundred and eighty years.”

 

Gordon laughed weakly, which made Oswald bristle. “Yeah, right. A vampire who doesn’t drink human blood. Ridiculous.”

 

“Animal blood is just as good. But I anticipated that you’d react this way,” Oswald started patiently. “Tell me, could a normal vampire have been able to control themselves when you were bleeding so profusely?”

 

“Maybe you mastered the skill of pretending in all these years.”

 

Gordon sounded less sure, however, and he crossed his arm, the move jostling his side.

 

“Speaking of bleeding, I need to have a look at your wound. Lift your shirt, please.”

 

The hunter scooted back against the pillows, drawing the duvet closer to his chest. “Absolutely not. I’m fine. Just leave those things here and I will redo the bandage myself.”

 

Oswald blinked a few times. “I’d prefer doing it myself. Besides, there is some medicine there that you have no idea how to use.”

 

“I’m not stupid,” Gordon replied, looking defiantly at Oswald who observed his face carefully, marvelling at the way his cheeks became redder.

 

“No, but for a hunter, you're a coward,” Oswald said, hoping that it would get the right reaction.

 

The blush spread to the hunter’s neck as well, the rush of blood making Oswald inexplicably excited. He could not produce such reaction himself since he became a vampire, and he hadn’t been this close to a human in a very, very long time.

 

Suddenly, Gordon kicked off the duvet from himself and took off his white shirt in a fit of anger, tossing it aside. “Satisfied?!”

 

Oswald’s eyes widened; he didn’t expect the hunter to be so hot tempered. The sight of Gordon’s bare chest confused Oswald; he didn’t understand why the revelation of the smooth skin took his breath away. It had to be his fascination with life, the way blood flowed through so many veins, the heat coming off every pore. Breathing in the new smells, Oswald finally looked up, and they stared at each other with Gordon for a few seconds.

 

The hunter gestured at his side, breaking the tense moment. “Well? Aren’t you going to check it?”

 

“Please stretch out, so that you’re lying flat,” Oswald instructed Jim, his hands gently pushing him down.

 

Oswald heard the way Jim’s breath hitched the moment he touched his abdomen. He knew the hunter needed time to get accustomed to a vampire being so close to him, so he worked with the utmost gentleness. He took off the old bandage and leaned in to inspect the wound. The stitches he made still held, but Oswald knew it had to be cleaned.

 

He took one of the vials from his supply box, an infusion of chamomile, arnica, melissa, and thyme, and wetted a piece of cotton with it. Oswald swiped it over the wound, Gordon flinching.

 

“Stay calm, _hentes_ ,” he said, holding Gordon’s side carefully. “I need to disinfect the wound.”

 

Gordon hissed, but didn’t move. “What does that mean? Why do you call me that?”

 

Without looking up from his work, Oswald asked. “What, _hentes_? It means butcher in Hungarian. Isn’t that your nickname? James ‘The Butcher’ Gordon.”

 

“I don’t like it.”

 

Hearing the disdain in the hunter’s voice, Oswald looked up. Gordon had his head turned away, lips tightly pinched and a nerve trembling in his jaw. How curious. Oswald wanted to know the reason. “I thought it was quite fitting, based on the corpses I’ve seen.”

 

Gordon stared at him for a long moment. “There are instances where a vampire needs to be hurt, slowed down, so that they can be staked.”

 

Removing a limb certainly slowed them down, Oswald thought, but didn’t say anything. He pushed his indignation away, he had to focus on the wound now. Next, he took a small container of an ointment made with poplar buds and lavender oil that had a soothing effect and was based on a very old family recipe. Oswald had prepared it while the hunter was in his care the first time; he crushed the buds and macerated them in alcohol for twenty-four hours. Then he added lard and beeswax and kept the mixture on bain marie for three hours. Unfortunately, the stubborn hunter had disappeared before it was ready.

 

“What the hell is that?” Gordon asked, sitting up a bit.

 

“It’s an ointment made with medicinal plants to calm the wound, helps with the swelling too. I made it myself,” Oswald said as his index and middle fingers slowly and tenderly rubbed the ointment over the sensitive skin.

 

He could feel Gordon’s eyes on him and hear his elevated heart rate, Oswald wishing he could quell his fears.

 

However, the hunter’s voice held no trace of fear when he spoke next, only curiosity. “Where did you learn to care for wounds?”

 

Oswald was surprised by the question. “My mother was very talented with plants, she knew all their secrets. I learned everything from her.”

 

“Seems like an unusual hobby for a vampire.”

 

Oswald shrugged as he applied a new bandage over the wound. “Perhaps. I think you’ll find I’m an unusual vampire in general.”

 

“I’m leaving as soon as I feel better,” Gordon stated with such finality that Oswald had to smile.

 

“If you say so, hunter.”

 

Oswald limped to the en-suite bathroom and washed his hands. When he returned, he found Gordon smelling the ointment container that Oswald had used, quickly snapping it shut when he noticed that the vampire was watching him.

 

Oswald tried to suppress his smile. “I’ll bring some food for you.”

 

* * *

 

Jim still had his doubts about Kapelput, but the vampire let him to his own devices, only bothering him when he needed to rebandage Jim’s wound or bring him food. He was healing much faster than usual, and Jim suspected it was because of all the medicinal stuff Kapelput forced him to take. There was a bitter liquid that he had to swallow every morning before eating ‒ the vampire swore that it was a tonic and that it would help him get him up on his feet faster. There were all kinds of teas as well, some rather good, others less tasty. The one Jim had to drink in the evenings was the best, as it would make him sleep peacefully throughout the night.

 

At first, Jim was rather bored. He knew he had to rest as much as possible if he wanted to get out soon, but he was not used to it. His boredom was slightly forgotten when on his second day he noticed a small black cat sitting on the patio, licking its paw. A look of delight passed Jim’s face and he opened the window, intent on luring the kitty inside of his room.

 

“Kitty, c’mere kitty!” Jim tried in his nicest voice, but the cat looked up at him for a second and ran away in the next.

 

Disappointed, Jim closed the window and went to back.

 

The next day, Jim was more prepared. He had saved a piece of ham from breakfast and waited patiently for the cat to show up. She walked graciously on the wall of the patio, looking up at Jim when he started calling her again. She watched the hunter with her gorgeous greenish eyes, then jumped on some decorative elements on the wall and finally onto Jim’s windowsill.

 

“That’s it, kitty, come here, I have something good for you,” Jim cooed, holding the piece of ham in his palm.

 

The cat smelled it, then looked up at Jim and meowed.

 

“It’s ham, very good,” Jim encouraged her and smiled when the kitty ate it, then licked her mouth. “Good girl!”

 

When Jim tried to pet the cat, she ducked her head, but once his palm touched her, she became more friendly and let Jim pet her as much as he wanted. She purred loudly when he scratched behind her ear, and Jim was happy to play with her until she got bored and disappeared. Jim sighed and went back to his bed and boredom. He needed to get out soon.

 

* * *

 

Later that day, Jim was waiting keenly for Kapelput’s usual visit with medicine and dinner. He didn’t protest as much when he had to drink another one of the vampire’s miracle teas, eager to get into his good graces for that evening. Next, Jim started with small talk.

 

“So, I saw a little black cat today. Is she your pet?”

 

“Did you now?” Kapelput smiled. “No, not exactly my pet, she just hangs out around the castle.”

 

“What’s her name?”

 

“Oh, uh… _Titok,_ ” Kapelput replied, not looking at Jim.

 

“Titok? Is that Hungarian?”

 

The vampire nodded. “Do you like her?”

 

“She seems shy, but playful. She relieved some of my boredom. Speaking of boredom…” Jim started hesitantly, waiting until the vampire rose his eyes to him. There was something in the way he did it that seemed so familiar. But Jim shook his head. “You said yesterday that if my wound looks nice, I could take a short walk today.”

 

“Yes, yes, I’m aware, Mr. Gordon, don’t be so impatient. I’m going to check it now,” the vampire sighed.

 

Jim lifted his shirt, a familiar shiver running down his spine. He blamed the sensations on Kapelput’s nature, on his vampirism, but the truth was that Jim had never before experienced such tender touches. The vampire’s fingertips were cold, but soothing and so smooth, making Jim’s skin tingle and his heart speed up. Kapelput made sure not to hurt Jim’s wound, and although Jim would never admit it out loud, the bloodsucker was great at nursing.

 

“The wound looks good, so you can leave the room after I bandage you. No running or sudden movements, alright?”

 

When Jim finally put on some shoes and left his room, he felt energised and he almost had a spring in his steps.

 

“Wrong way again, Mr. Gordon. Unless you were hurrying to my quarters.” Jim blushed as the vampire flashed him a cocky smile. “I assume you want to visit your pony, so you need to go to the right.”

 

Jim stopped in front of Oswald and although they were almost of the same height, he tried to tower above the beast. “Milady is _not_ a pony, stop calling her that.”

 

“Or what?”

 

The bloodsucker broke out in a smile again and Jim’s cheeks became flushed instantly, a funny feeling whirling in his stomach. Confused about his own reaction, Jim left, impatient to see Milady.

 

When he made it to the stables, which seemed like an eternity with how slowly he could move, there was another surprise waiting for him: it had been cleaned since the last time he was there. Jim wondered whether Kapelput felt embarrassed of the stable’s state or heard Jim’s comment when he left the first time.

 

Milady neighed in recognition when she noticed Jim and he smiled at her, putting his arm around her neck and patting her lovingly. “Missed me, girl?”

 

Jim noted that the box stalls were all neat now and there were a lot of hay stacks, so he was relieved that his horse was kept in good conditions. He doubted that Kapelput had cleaned the place himself, but then he must have hired someone to do it, which must have been risky. As Jim patted his trusted companion, he heard the slight creak of the door. Turning back, he noticed that Kapelput was there, cane in his hand.

 

“See, she’s alright, nothing happened to your horsie.”

 

Jim nodded. God, he hated doing this, but he had to. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

 

Kapelput inclined his head, walking closer so he was on the other side of Milady, touching her cheek. “You’re a strange man, Mr. Gordon. You thanked me with no hesitation for taking care of your horse, but not of yourself.”

 

Jim could feel the vampire’s searching eyes on him, but he refused to look up. “Well, I’m still not sure whether you’re healing or poisoning me.”

 

Kapelput sighed dramatically. “I’ve told you already that I don’t want your blood, hunter. I know you said you want to get out of here as soon as you get better, but why don’t you stay a bit longer? To see for yourself that I’m telling you the truth.”

 

Jim shook his head. “No, no.”

 

“Aren’t you in the least bit curious?” the vampire asked and Jim couldn’t avoid his eyes now, wide and so, so pale even in the dim light. “I could show you what I do, how I live. Give you a tour of the castle, so you don’t get lost again.” The bloodsucker’s teasing smile made Jim flustered. “Then, if you still want to, you can leave.”

 

Jim considered Kapelput’s words; he certainly knew how to make a convincing argument. Would Jim be able to leave at the end, though? Or would he become the victim of an elaborate ploy, the plaything of a vampire who was bored of simple hunts and needed new thrills?

 

Despite all the risks, Jim already knew what his answer would be.

 

Kapelput too, seemed to have sensed his answer and extended his gloved hand. “Do we have a deal, Mr. Gordon?”

 

“We do,” Jim said and took his hand, shaking it, missing the cold touch.

 

The vampire smiled and his fangs shone in the pale light, Jim shivering.

  
_What have you gotten yourself into, little hunter?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also consider Oswald's fascination with plants very typical for the setting. Back home, people are very into homeopathy and many would appeal to it first.
> 
> Also, _titok_ means secret in Hungarian.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, people! New chapter, hope you enjoy it! :)

“So, how do you want to do this, Mr. Gordon?” the vampire asked the next morning when he brought breakfast for his guest.

 

“You said you would show me how you live, so that’s what you’re going to do,” Jim said, wolfing down cured ham and smoked cheese with a thick piece of bread with potato, a local specialty.

 

“You’ll be shadowing me then?” Kapelput asked with a grin.

 

Jim rolled his eyes at the vampire’s wording, but nodded. “For twenty-four hours. That’s the first test.”

 

“Alright, hunter. I wonder how many hoops I’ll have to go through.”

 

“As many as it takes,” Jim replied, spreading blackberry jam on his buttered bread and biting into it with gusto. God, he was so famished, which made no sense since he was eating very well, better than whenever he was on the road.

 

When Jim looked up, he found the bloodsucker staring at him with his lips slightly parted, eyes wide and watching Jim’s lips. Jim blushed and set the slice of bread on his plate, wiping a bit of jam from the corner of his mouth. Kapelput followed every motion with his green eyes, but when he noticed that Jim was watching him he looked away.

 

“I’ll be back in twenty minutes, hunter. Be ready by then.”

 

Jim shook his head, the creature was definitely weird. Had he never seen people eat?! That was a silly thought since he must have been human at some point, so why on earth was Kapelput staring at him like that?! Did it remind him of his own ‘food’? Jim decided to take his gun for the day, better be safe than sorry.

 

Not much later, there was a knock at Jim’s door, the vampire waiting for him with a bright expression, practically vibrating with nervous energy. “Alright, let’s go to my office, hunter.”

 

“Is it downstairs?”

 

“Yes. I’m seriously considering drawing you a map, Mr. Gordon. You have terrible sense of orientation. No wonder you ended up in my forest.”

 

“Shut up, bloodsucker, how was I supposed to know,” Jim grumbled, but patiently waited as Kapelput hobbled down the stairs. 

 

If the need ever arose, Jim thought, he could definitely kick the vampire’s right knee, slowing him down. He felt bad that he’d use someone’s disability in such a way, but Jim told himself that it was a vampire, so he couldn’t trust him.

 

“Are you even listening to me, Mr. Gordon? Honestly, I really don’t know how you survived for so long out there.”

 

Jim scoffed, but let the vampire’s insult slide.

 

“So, as I was saying, there are only bedrooms upstairs, the interesting rooms are downstairs,” Kapelput said as he led Jim towards a hallway decorated with various portraits. 

 

“The dining room,” Kapelput pointed towards the first room, then to the next one. “The kitchen is there ‒ it’s a bit old-fashioned, but I don’t really have a use for it. You, on the other hand, Mr. Gordon, will have to get acquainted with it, as I won’t be cooking for you.”

 

Jim’s eyebrows shot up at the sharp tone of the vampire. Well, definitely not so hospitable anymore. Or sensitive about food, Jim thought as they went to the next door.

 

“That’s the library,” Kapelput only pointed at it, not opening the door, much to Jim’s dismay. Maybe they would return later.

 

Finally, the fourth door opened to the office and Jim stopped in his track, eyes widening as he took in the enormous room.

 

“My office. And, well, laboratory as well,” Kapelput said with obvious pride, walking to the table to check on something that was bubbling over a small flame.

 

Jim stepped closer, eyes wide as he took in the various test tubes, glass flasks and beakers, containing liquids of every colour. This was definitely not what he expected to find in a vampire’s castle. Jim picked up an Erlenmeyer flask with a dark purple liquid in it, peering at it curiously then bringing it to his nose to smell it.

 

“Careful with that!” Kapelput exclaimed and he was suddenly beside the hunter, his fingers curling around Jim’s. “It’s belladonna, very poisonous.”

 

Jim swallowed as he locked eyes with Kapelput, slowly releasing the flask and ignoring the goosebumps that had broken out on his arms.

 

“Why are you keeping it out in the open then?”

 

“Experiments. Also, I am not used to having anyone pry among my things,” the vampire replied, Jim clucking his tongue.

 

“I wasn’t prying, it was right there on the table!”

 

“Alright, you should sit down here,” Kapelput said as he brought a chair and Jim found himself being pushed down by his shoulders. “We’re going to prepare a new cream for your wound that will help with the cicatrization process, so that you won’t have an ugly scar.”

 

“We?” Jim asked curiously, watching as Kapelput was searching for something on his many shelves.

 

“Of course, you’re going to help me. You didn’t think you’d just get to sit on your derriere all day, did you?”

 

That’s exactly what Jim thought was going to happen, but he just glared at the vampire. At least he’d get to see what he’d actually use for this cream.

 

Kapelput brought to the table several jars and a pestle and mortar, placing them in front of Jim, then hobbled over to another table to get a small, brass scale. He was standing on the other side of the table, checking if everything he needed was there.

 

“I’m going to measure the plants and you’ll crush them, alright?” Kapelput asked as he unbuttoned his suit jacket and took it off, making Jim wonder ‒ not for the first time ‒ whether he always wore such elegant clothes.

 

“Don’t you have, I don’t know, work clothes?” he asked.

 

Kapelput looked at him curiously as he rolled up the sleeves of his pale pink shirt with grey stripes. “Elegance should be maintained in every situation, Mr. Gordon. But if you want, I can provide you with a nice apron.”

 

“No, thanks.”

 

What a snob, Jim thought. Although he wasn’t from an aristocratic family, Jim was familiar with their circles, as he was often invited to formal events to celebrate his successful hunts and to entertain the bored ladies and show-off gentlemen. When he was younger, these soirees impressed him greatly, even though at the beginning he felt like a fool since he wasn’t familiar with the etiquette. The free food and drink were very tempting, though, so he attended every silly party.

 

As he grew older, however, he became sick of them. The pretty ladies who swarmed around him and lavished him in their attentions, got bored very soon of his tales and fixation. Some would pretend to listen until they dragged him away to an abandoned balcony, but Jim always apologised if he’d mislead them and then he quickly fled. The men weren’t better either; they just let him talk and then they would brag of their regular hunting parties or talked politics. Admittedly, some also tried to seduce Jim, very subtly, but after a while he knew where to stop them.

 

Ever since then, Jim had been disgusted with the aristocracy, and it looked like Kapelput was no better either, flaunting his richness and oozing snobism.

 

Oblivious to Jim’s thoughts, Kapelput continued in a cheery tone. “Alright, first we need twenty grams of chamomile flowers.”

 

Jim watched as Kapelput opened one of the jars and carefully measured the dried flowers on one side of the scales, until it was balanced. He poured the flowers into the mortar, then reached for another glass. 

 

“This is arnica, it’s for reducing pain,” Kapelput said as he showed its content to Jim, then changed the weight on the scale, taking one off and replacing it with a smaller one. “I only need fifteen grams.”

 

Jim watched as Kapelput then measured comfrey roots, which were black on the outside and white on the inside. He was very focused on his task, eyes watching like a hawk’s as his long, pale fingers placed the various plants on the small brass disk. Jim watched them, fascinated; the vampire’s fingers were delicate and elegant, but held a secret strength. Meanwhile Kapelput made sure to get the right amount, also explaining its healing properties. He smiled when Jim looked up at him with wide eyes.

 

“Now some work for you, Mr. Gordon. Please chop these up.”

 

Jim did as he was told while Kapelput went to get a bunch of dried plants that were hung on the other side of the room.

 

“Some oregano,” he explained to Jim and held the bunch to his nose so he could smell it. “I collected this before the weather got cold and I had to bring the pot inside.”

 

“Wait, you grow these plants yourself?” Jim asked, surprised.

 

“Some of them, the more delicate plants or the ones that aren’t used to this climate. A lot come from the forest, though, like this oak bark,” Kapelput replied as he measured the last ingredient. 

 

A vampire that grew and collected plants… this was unusual. Such ephemeral creations to be the preoccupation of an immortal. Jim himself never considered it a worthy occupation; except for flowers, he usually just regarded the rest as weed.

 

“The world of plants is really interesting, hunter.”

 

“I didn’t say otherwise,” Jim replied.

 

“No, but you were thinking it,” Kapelput sighed and when he had all the ingredients in the mortar, he asked Jim to crush them into a fine powder.

 

“Now we just need to add this mixture to some melted lard, then add beeswax and let it simmer for a couple of hours.”

 

“Do you know these recipes by heart? Every medicine that you prepared for me?”

 

Kapelput looked up from the small pot where he was stirring the mixture. “Many of them, the most common ones. I have everything written as well,” he said as he went to the bookshelves and took out several notebooks.

 

Jim got up slowly, his side still a bit sensitive, and joined Kapelput by his desk. He took one of the leather bound notebooks and opened it, a soft sigh escaping his lips. These were all handwritten recipes and accompanying drawings of plants with extensive descriptions.

 

“Latin? Huh.”

 

“Well, that was my first notebook, so Latin was the most popular language back then,” Kapelput replied, peering over Jim. The hunter could feel his perfume again, and he thought he could distinguish lavender.

 

“How old are you?”

 

“Thirty-one,” Kapelput replied with a smirk.

 

“Your actual age, vampire.” Jim looked at him from the corner of his eyes.

 

“Two hundred fifty-five. And you?”

 

“Thirty-four. So older than you in a sense,” Jim said looking down at Kapelput, barely holding back a smile.

 

“Pff, you wish!” the vampire retorted, but Jim could see that he was amused.

 

Later, Jim was surprised when he discovered that they spent almost four hours in the lab and he hadn’t even noticed the passage of time. Kapelput actually managed to hold his attention with interesting facts and stories, but mostly with his boundless energy. He seemed so bubbly, and Jim realised it was probably because he had never had anyone to talk to about these things.

 

Perhaps this plant stuff wasn’t that bad.

 

* * *

 

If he had to be honest, Oswald was mostly worried about the hunting part of this surveillance day Gordon had decided to do. While, of course, Oswald hadn’t consumed human blood in almost two centuries, the hunter refused to believe him. Maybe if Jim saw the act with his own eyes, it would be easier to accept for him.

 

Oswald let Jim eat some lunch and care for his horse until it got dark since they couldn’t go outside before that. As Oswald watched Jim return from the stables, he noticed how the man seemed to hunch his shoulders, trying to get some warmth. He could also hear Gordon blow air into his cupped hands. He only had the white linen shirt on that Oswald had given him and his black leather jacket. The silly human was going to develop pneumonia.

 

But then Oswald realised that Gordon didn’t really have many clothes in his bag when Oswald had a look at it the first time he brought Jim to his castle and looked for a change since the hunters clothes had been soaked with blood. Although Oswald was smaller than Gordon, he was sure there were some coats in his wardrobe that would fit the hunter.

 

About an hour later, Oswald found Gordon in the kitchen, raiding the pantry. Oswald cleared his throat. “Hunter, if you still want to accompany me in the forest.”

 

“Of course,” Jim said, mouth still full of the pear he was munching. “Told you I’m keeping my eyes on you.”

 

“Yes, yes… well, you’re going to freeze in that jacket of yours, so here, I found this. I think it should fit you.”

 

Oswald took the coat that was draped over his arm and showed it to Jim. It was a beautiful, tan suede coat, soft and warm, perfect for chilly nights. The hunter frowned, but he didn’t make a move.

 

“Come on, Mr. Gordon, I don’t bite. Yet.”

 

That was probably the wrong thing to say, Oswald realised, but for some reason it made the hunter finally walk up to him and yank the coat from his hands. Jim put it on with an irritated expression which gradually softened as he buttoned it up. 

 

It fit him perfectly.

 

Oswald couldn’t stop sizing Mr. Gordon up; it was as if the coat was made for him and his broad shoulders. Even the colour suited him so well, complimenting his complexion and hair.

 

“There. You’re prepared now,” Oswald said and trying to brush aside some confusing feelings, he stepped behind Jim and into the pantry. 

 

He hadn’t told the hunter yet, but their night walk also had another purpose. Oswald took the two baskets he had previously hidden on the lower shelf and turned back to Gordon, giving him one of them.

 

“C’mon, hunter, do you think you can carry that basket?” Oswald asked, amused by Gordon’s offended expression.

 

“Very funny.”

 

Oswald noticed that Jim had peeked under the cloth that was covering his basket. “What’s with all this food?”

 

“Well, I have to keep up appearances, so I order food every week. Even though I have a human guest now, it still won’t be fully consumed,” Oswald explained as they entered the forest. “So instead of letting it rot, I like to give it away.”

 

Gordon didn’t say anything, but Oswald could feel the hunter’s eyes on his back, as he followed Oswald on the path. It was a cloudy night, so the moon only came out in passing, before a cloud would float in front of it.

 

The closest village, Magura, was three kilometres away and Oswald wondered whether the walk was too exhausting for Gordon. He could hear the hunter breathe faster, so Oswald decided to slow their pace. He didn’t want to ask Gordon whether he wanted to stop, because he knew the stubborn human would say no. Maybe if the forest got a bit less dense, he could see something that would offer a pretext to stop.

 

A few minutes later, Oswald could already smell what would be Gordon’s distraction, but it took them another five minutes to get to the margin of the forest. Oswald knelt carefully by the trunk of an oak tree and signalled to Gordon to do the same.

 

“Can you smell that, hunter?”

 

Gordon stuck his nose up in the air. “Yeah, something sweet.”

 

“Down here,” Oswald said and indicated towards the bunch of tiny white and maroon flowers. “This is night phlox. Also called midnight candy. It blooms at night.”

 

Gordon got closer to get a whiff. “Smells like fruit candy.”

 

Oswald snorted. “Really, hunter? More like honey, with a dash of vanilla and almond.”

 

“Yeah, right. Then why is it called midnight candy? Get another nose, vampire.”

 

There was no winning with Gordon, but Oswald noticed that he was at least breathing normally again. They soon left the forest and reached the outskirts of the village. Oswald put his index finger over his lips, indicating that they should keep silent. Not like Gordon was a chatterbox, but better be safe.

 

The village was silent and dark; people were sleeping deeply, so it wasn’t too difficult getting close to the houses and distributing the food. They just had to keep to the shadows. Surprisingly, even Gordon helped, so they were finished sooner. At one of the houses, Oswald also left two jars of jam.

 

“They have six kids,” he whispered when Gordon looked at him inquiringly.

 

After they were done, Oswald quickly led them back to the safety of the forest where they didn’t have to be so careful anymore. Gordon had been watching him for a while, but still wasn’t saying anything.

 

“What is it, hunter? Speak your mind.”

 

“Nothing, just… aren’t these people curious where the food comes from? Have they never caught you?”

 

“Well, I don’t always come here, there are many villages in the region and I can run fast. Besides, these are poor people, they are not going to question a bit of food. They will attribute it to some magical creature or another.”

 

The hunter looked skeptical, but Oswald didn’t want to argue with him. “So, are you cold or should we go hunting?”

 

“You’re going hunting, I’m just watching,” Gordon muttered.

 

Oswald smiled at Gordon’s attempts to distance himself from him. They walked for a while until Oswald could smell and hear a small animal nearby, most probably a rabbit. That would be adequate for the purpose. Before the rabbit could get away, Oswald sprinted after it, hoping that Jim saw him and didn’t think he abandoned him.

 

Luckily, Oswald caught the brownish grey rabbit just as it was about to hop deeper into the forest. He remained crouched as he lifted the kicking animal by its scruff. Usually, Oswald didn’t have trouble keeping his hunger at bay, but he hadn’t hunted since before Gordon’s first arrival, so he sank his teeth into the rabbit’s aorta, sucking greedily the warm blood. 

 

Oswald registered Gordon’s footsteps behind him and he quickly finished, hunger somewhat sated. He placed the exsanguinated rabbit on the ground and got up, turning towards the hunter. The moon illuminated the space between them in that moment and Gordon flinched, took a step back. Oswald could hear his heart beating fast and he could smell disgust in the sweat that appeared on Gordon’s forehead.

 

The vampire’s chest constricted and the blood he’d just had made his stomach churn at Gordon’s reaction. He quickly wiped his mouth, noticing that there were traces of blood on his hand. That explained why Gordon was staring at him like that with his big eyes, his mouth turned down.

 

“Let’s go back to the castle,” Oswald announced, dejected.

 

On the way back, an uncomfortable silence settled over them. Gordon was keeping his distance and Oswald could feel his nervousness; in addition, the hunter also kept his hand on his gun. The weapon couldn’t hurt Oswald fatally, but the harsh distrust that wedged itself between them after the hunt produced an ache in his chest that he hadn’t experienced in a long time, perhaps even in decades. Oswald thought their day had been going well, only for it to crumble like a sandcastle. It didn’t make sense, it was Gordon who wanted to see this whole thing.

The way back seemed to last an eternity and not even the smell of his night blooming flowers could cheer Oswald up. At least there were only a couple more hours to sunrise, maybe Gordon would feel sleepy and go to bed soon, so Oswald didn’t have to deal with the grimaces Gordon made.

 

Nevertheless, Gordon followed him to the office without a word, all the while keeping his eyes on Oswald. He took off his coat and sat in the same chair as earlier that day. If only they could revert to the rather amicable atmosphere from morning. Oswald took one of his notebooks that were in Latin and then looked for a blank one. It wasn’t an urgent task, but he had been thinking about translating those recipes into either French or English, since more people spoke those languages. It wasn’t as if he had ever published any of his recipes, but he felt as if they should be left for posterity, just in case.

 

The next couple of hours were also spent in tense and awkward silence. Oswald thought about sinking his nails in his own thighs since Gordon was watching him, staring at him as if he were about to commit a crime any second. Because of this, he made several mistakes in the new notebook, and even splattered some ink on one of the pages, which he tore out with a frustrated sigh.

 

After a while, however, Gordon narrowed his eyes as he was fighting sleep, and it looked as if he was continuously scowling at Oswald. The vampire didn’t say anything, but relaxed a bit in his chair as he wasn’t the object of a heavy stare anymore. He managed to write three pages before he noticed that the hunter was almost asleep, right elbow on the table and head propped against his palm. Well, it was almost seven, the sun was probably out by now.

 

Oswald got up carefully and walked over without a sound. He wanted to gently wake Gordon and send him to bed, but before he could put his hand on his shoulder, the hunter whipped out his gun, pointing it between Oswald’s eyes.

 

_ A fenébe. Damn _ .

 

* * *

 

Jim suddenly woke to Kapelput leaning over him. “Stand back, you beast! What were you trying to do, huh?!”

 

The vampire raised his hands. “Send you to sleep, you moron.”

 

“Yeah right, sneaking up on me,” Jim yelled, cocking the gun. “I bet you thought I’d fall asleep and then you could suck my blood.”

 

“Why on earth would I do it now?! I could have killed you a thousand times before, hunter!” Kapelput shouted back, offended.

 

“I don’t know, maybe you wanted me to get better, so you’d have access to healthy blood. The devil knows about your deviant tastes, Kapelput!”

 

“It’s  _ Count  _ Kapelput to you, you bumpkin! You saw me hunting, I even fed right in front of your eyes! What else am I supposed to do to convince you?!”

 

Jim couldn’t help curling his lip which seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back for the vampire. He made an agitated sound and hurried to one of the heavily covered windows. Jim got up as Kapelput yanked on one of the drapes, letting the pink light of sunrise invade the room. The vampire held his left hand up to the light, all the while staring into the hunter’s eyes. Jim’s mouth opened as he watched the skin get redder and start to give off smoke, but Kapelput didn’t move.

 

It was obviously a very painful experience; Jim ignored the way his ribcage constricted and hurried to the vampire, pushing him back in the shadows. His hand was splayed on the vampire’s chest and even through all the layers of clothing, he could feel that Kapelput was trembling. Jim couldn’t help huffing as Kapelput raised his teary eyes at him.

 

“I thought you were smarter than that,  _ Count  _ Kapelput,” he whispered, hand lingering on the vampire’s chest.

 

“I didn’t know how else to show you.”

 

Jim swallowed. “Well, you definitely made your point.”

 

* * *

 

Oswald wiped his eyes as he listened to Jim’s heart rate gradually slow down to a normal beat. He wasn’t sure what made him do it. No one, absolutely no one, made him feel this way, either as a human or vampire. Why it was so important to him to make Gordon like him was a mystery. He knew it had nothing to do with his survival; even if he didn’t fight the hunter, he could easily escape him.

 

His hand hurt like nothing else Oswald had ever experienced, a pain so deep he knew it would never be fully healed. He took a container of the cream he also used on Jim, even though he wasn’t sure whether it would work on him or this type of burn. He should probably send a letter to Eugenie, to ask if she knew of cures for this kind of wounds.

 

Meanwhile, Gordon was watching his every move, but not with suspicion as he did before. Oswald doubted that it was concern, but he didn’t know what else to call it. It was definitely not hostile, though.

 

“Will it get better?”

 

Oswald sighed as he applied the ointment which provided a bit of relief, but the pain was still there.

 

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I’ve never had this type of injury before.”

 

Mr. Gordon swallowed, but didn’t say anything. He even avoided Oswald’s eyes, but followed him when the vampire got up.

 

“You know it’s been almost twenty-four hours,” Oswald said as he stopped in front of the library.

 

“I’m a man of my words,” Gordon replied, crossing his arms.

 

One half of Oswald wanted to punch him, the other felt admiration. He took the key from his inner breast pocket and opened the door.

 

“Why do you keep it locked?” Jim inquired and Oswald seemed to hear a slight reproach in it.

 

Oswald shrugged. “These books are my most valuable possessions. I don’t want an ‘accidental’ intruder coming in here.”

 

Gordon nodded, eyes widening at the large selection of books. “I can understand.”

 

Oswald smiled at Gordon’s wonderstruck expression. He went to his desk, feeling more exhausted than before. He probably needed to hunt again that night. 

 

Seeing the hunter wonder around the shelves, he called after him: “Of course you’re welcome to take any book you like.”

 

Oswald had an old, hand-written copy of a chronicle on his desk. He had been working on it for over a month, translating the old Hungarian into the contemporary one. He wasn’t doing it because he thought it could be useful to someone, only because he liked spending his time poring over books.

 

Gordon came back with a book and sat down on the upholstered sofa, an expensive piece of furniture from the previous century, brought by Oswald from Paris. It had gilded ornaments on the wooden parts and the fabric was a bright, pearlescent blue. Oswald had to admit that the hunter looked very distinguished on it. He continued working with a smile.

 

After a while, when Oswald was trying to think about an appropriate translation for an archaic word, he noticed that Gordon was again on the brink of sleep.

 

“Go to sleep, you stubborn fool,” Oswald said, not even raising his eyes from the book.

 

“No, creature of the night,” Gordon mumbled, trying to sit up straight.

 

He was asleep in five minutes.

 

Oswald shook his head, but smiled. He tiptoed outside the room and returned with a blanket, draping it over the hunter. He regarded Gordon for a couple of seconds, marvelling at his peaceful expression. How angelic humans looked when they slept! Oswald almost reached out to brush away a blonde lock of hair from Gordon’s forehead, but thought better of it.

 

Even while working on the translation, Oswald sneaked a few looks at the sleeping hunter, the sounds of his breathing quite soothing. Oswald managed to finish two pages before he heard Gordon begin to stir. However, the hunter decided not to signal it to Oswald that he was awake; instead, he continued pretending to be asleep while sneaking looks at Oswald, secretly studying him.

 

Oswald could barely suppress a smile. He would have loved to see how long Jim would have kept up this pretense, but his hand was throbbing painfully and he couldn’t focus on the book anymore. The skin became even darker and Oswald feared the tissue would become necrotic. He sighed and put away the books, gathering the things on his desk.

 

It was only then that Gordon pretended to wake up, looking at Oswald with narrowed eyes as he folded the blanket. He refused to acknowledge it, though, or that it had been Oswald who put it over him.

 

“I believe the twenty-four hours have already passed a while ago, hunter. Also, I will probably retire for a few days, to take care of this,” Oswald held up his hand as they walked to the door. “I know it’s not very nice of me as your host, so I do apologise for that. Please make yourself at home.”

 

Oswald waited until Jim left the room and he turned his back to lock the door, only then allowing a wince to pass his face. He probably needed the time not only to let his hand heal, but also to put a bit of distance between himself and the hunter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Nekomata58919 for the beta! I owe everything to my dear skeleton_twins without whom this story would be so much worse or wouldn't even exist at all. Thank you :)

Jim went right to bed after Kapelput had announced that he would be gone for a few days. He was exhausted after a whole day of following the vampire around, especially that it proved useless for finding some kind of fault with Kapelput. On the contrary…

 

The hunter woke up about four hours later, a bit groggy. He went downstairs to the kitchen, then wandered the corridors of the castle aimlessly. What did Kapelput get up to in his spare time? Didn’t he go insane inside these walls? 

 

Jim didn’t know what to do with himself and he grimaced. Perhaps it was best to get out of the castle a bit and clean his head. He put on his hat and went to the stables, convinced that Milady wouldn’t mind a bit of a gallop either.

 

* * *

 

While on his way to the little town he’d previously visited, Jim had more time to think about what had happened while he kept his eyes on Kapelput. He had to admit that in general, he was surprised how ‘normal’ Kapelput’s life was. Of course, he could have faked it for Jim’s sake, but his passion for plants was absolutely genuine, Jim could definitely feel it.

 

The hunting, though… Jim was not prepared for it. Of course, he’d seen vampires feed before, although from humans, never animals. It was just the hungry look in Kapelput’s eyes and the blood around his mouth that gave Jim chills. He seemed overcome by something animalistic in that moment and Jim feared that he would be the next victim. The look vanished just as quickly as it appeared, though, but Jim was haunted by it.

 

Nevertheless, the hand burning was the part that Jim replayed the most in his mind, unable to escape the look of hurt in vampire’s watery eyes. It was such a reckless gesture. Kapelput said that he’d never had such an injury before, so he had no idea what could have happened. He could have even died, the fool. No one knew how long vampires needed to stay in the sun to actually die because of it, but probably a couple of minutes were fatal.

 

Jim could feel his chest constrict again even just thinking about it. That Kapelput would risk his life just to prove to Jim that he was a good, trustworthy vampire… it meant that everything that had happened was true, right? Despite their small arguments, Kapelput seemed rather cool and collected in general, so he wouldn’t act so rashly if he weren’t truly convinced of what he’d said. 

 

Despite this, it was evident that Jim needed to have a back-up plan in case things went bad. He didn’t have many friends left in his life after the Paris fiasco, and he cut ties with a lot more people. The person he trusted the most was Harvey Bullock, an Irish hunter he met back in New York, though he was living in London nowadays, as there was always more than enough work there.

 

Jim stopped at the post office first. He watched the people coming and going as he thought about what and how he should write it. He decided that the direct approach was the best.

 

_ Dear Harvey, _

 

_ I apologize for not writing earlier, but many things happened lately. _

 

_ About ten days ago, I was wounded by some kind of vampire that I’ve never seen before ‒ I suppose it must be something that belongs to the old world. Anyway, that is not important right now. Due to this wound, I accidentally wandered onto the territory of a vampire who claims to have only consumed animal blood in the past two centuries. _

 

_ He appears to be telling the truth, but I have my suspicions. He does seem different from the bloodsuckers we’ve previously encountered, so I decided to accept his invitation and stay here. However, I would feel more reassured if I knew that you would come and clean things up should anything happen to me. _

 

_ So, let’s make a deal: if you don’t receive a letter from me every week telling you that I’m still alive, please come here and avenge my death. _

 

_ Below you will find his address and other details. Thank you, brother. Hope all is well with you. _

 

_ Jim _

 

Rereading it again, Jim nodded and placed the letter in an envelope, then bought the appropriate stamps. He was thinking whether he should go to have a drink when his gaze landed on the bookshop. Jim remembered the words of the tavern owner who told him that Kapelput often ordered things from there. Maybe it would be useful to ask the owner about his host.

 

Jim took off his hat as he entered, a bit humbled by all the beautiful books and their vanilla scent. There was a lady in the back and she said something when the bell over the door rang, but Jim didn’t understand what, so he walked to the nearest shelf and started reading the titles.

 

A few moments later, the lady was beside Jim, asking him something in Hungarian.

 

“Sorry, I don’t-”

 

“Oh, you must be Count Kapelput’s guest!” Seeing Jim’s wide eyes, she added, “I apologise about assuming this, but people talk. You know, small town.”

 

“That’s alright,” Jim replied with an easy smile, rejoicing in his mind as he wouldn’t have to give awkward explanations for his curiosity. The old lady tucked a strand of silver hair behind her ear.

 

“Unfortunately, I don’t have English books on stock. But you can order any from this catalogue, they usually arrive in ten days. Although you have enough in the Count’s library, I imagine he has an amazing collection.”

 

“Yes, he does.” Jim tried to put on a meek act. “See, that’s why I am in trouble. I need to get him a gift for his generosity, but I don’t really know him, so I don’t know what would be a suitable present.”

 

“Oh, I see,” she replied pensively, tapping her chin. “Well, to be honest, I don’t really know him. He rarely comes here personally, I usually just have everything delivered to his castle. I don’t think he really likes going out, he seems very isolated. But he always orders a lot of paper and writing utensils, books as well, of course. He must be very intelligent, but you must know that by now.”

 

“Yes, yes, of course.”

 

“I think he’s also writing books himself,” the bookshop owner added with a small smile.

 

Jim wasn’t sure if Kapelput wanted people to know about his plant studies, so he decided that a vague answer would be best. “Maybe. He spends a lot of his time in his office.”

 

“Oh really? He hasn’t shown you around then?”

 

“Just a bit.”

 

The lady waved to an old man who passed the shop and raised a hand in salute, then turned back to Jim. “So how did you and Count Kapelput meet? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

 

Jim didn’t expect this question and when he panicked, he couldn’t lie. “Oh, well, he saved my life, actually. I was wounded from… a, uhm, a fight, I was robbed and he found me and took me to the castle.”

 

“Oh really? That’s terrible what happened to you, though,” the bookshop lady clasped her hands, eyes widening. “What happened next?”

 

“He took care of me, nursed me back to health,” Jim confessed, suddenly blushing, even though he didn’t know why.

 

Although what he said was true, it was a sanitised version of their relationship, leaving out all their arguments and inimical thoughts. The bookshop owner, however, seemed very absorbed in his story and would have probably loved to hear more.

 

“Aww, but I bet you clicked after that,” she said with a soft look on her face, squeezing Jim’s forearm briefly. “I am glad the Count found a friend, he always struck me as a rather lonely person, in need of some companionship.”

 

Jim’s smile was rather painful, but he had to pretend for the sake of gaining more information. Everyone seemed so enchanted with Kapelput, so he had to be on their side, pretending to be buddies with the count. They would be so disappointed if they knew the truth.

 

Someone entered the shop, so Jim knew that the lady would not have time to chit-chat for long.

 

“I’m Jim Gordon, by the way,” he said, anxious for a second, fearing that the shop owner might recognise his name.

 

“Very pleased to meet you. I’m Éva Kálmán.”

 

Jim took her hand and kissed it, the lady blushing. “Likewise, Ms. Kálmán.”

 

“Please, call me Éva. Oh and Jim, do come by on Tuesday, if you want to. Count Kapelput’s book order will arrive by then.”

 

“Alright, see you on Tuesday,” Jim said and nodded with a smile, satisfied with his achievements.

 

* * *

 

The next day found Jim in the same strange position, ennui weighing on him heavily. Without Kapelput, he felt like an intruder in the castle. There was no trace of him and Jim wondered whether he was even at home, or if he went somewhere to convalesce. Jim wondered whether Kapelput had other bloodsucker friends. He must have had some, though whether they also shared his dietary preferences, that was a mystery. 

 

Jim sighed; it was lonely and a bit depressing just sitting around, how did Kapelput do that for so long?! Well, Jim doubted he’d always stayed here, but still. He even tried the door to the library, even though he’d seen the vampire lock it. The office was open, however, and Jim peeked inside, half hoping that Kapelput would be there, raising his green eyes at him reproachfully.

 

It was empty, though, and Jim opened the curtains with a sigh. The place looked different in natural light, perhaps a bit lifeless and colourless. Jim preferred the soft glow candlelight afforded to everything, conferring a nobel air to the furniture and various objects. 

 

He looked at the bookshelves, tilting his head to read the titles. Just like in the library, they were in various languages and on various topics, though these ones seemed more scientific. Jim didn’t understand the majority, not just because of the language barrier, but he honestly thought he was too dumb for topics such as astronomy or physics. Of course, being a vampire meant that one had unlimited time to absorb all the knowledge in this world.

 

Jim found the notebooks Oswald had already shown him and he opened them, curious whether he could find some incriminating information, maybe something on killing humans or tricking vampire hunters. Jim understood some Latin as a lot of the vampire hunter manuals were written in this language, although he was lucky because the most important works had been translated into English as well.

 

Once again, Jim marvelled at the neat handwriting and detailed drawings. He wondered what made Kapelput put so much effort into these notes. He must have had them published, otherwise what was the point? And if they hadn’t been shared with the public, they should be. Such knowledge should not go to waste, even if Jim didn’t like where it came from. It could save lives, as his own had been.

 

Finding no evidence that Kapelput was actually a monster in disguise, Jim sat by his desk thoughtfully. He was slightly frustrated and he contemplated the many drawers in front of him, imagining what secrets they could contain. He didn’t like it that he had to degrade himself to snooping, but there was no other choice.

 

The first drawer only had some other notebooks and various writing utensils. The second one, however, surprised Jim. On top, there was another notebook with a pencil between the pages and Jim opened it. The two pages contained quick portraits of a woman or women with curly hair. Jim wasn’t sure, but he assumed it was one person, though the features looked slightly different in each one.

 

He wasn’t sure why, but Jim felt like he was intruding on something he wasn’t supposed to, so he didn’t even look through the other pages. Of course, Kapelput could draw as well. Those drawings weren’t masterpieces, but they looked quite decent. The blurry and always changing features bothered Jim, though. He couldn’t imagine whether this was a real person or if the vampire was perhaps drawing someone randomly, someone he’d imagined. Jim put back the notebook as he found it and decided not to look in the other drawers.

 

After closing the curtains ‒ in case Kapelput decided to enter the office ‒ Jim went back to his room, his whole face lighting up when he saw Titok sitting on his window sill.

 

“Kitty! Come inside,” Jim encouraged the cat as he opened the window, petting her shiny black fur.

 

Titok meowed at Jim, looking up at him curiously.

 

“Where have you been, girl? I haven’t seen you in days,” Jim said as he snatched Titok up and sat down on his bed with her, petting her as she put her front paws on Jim’s thighs.

 

“Good thing you came back from your wanderings, because I am so bored here. That bad vampire vanished and left me alone.”

 

“OUCH!” Jim exclaimed when Titok sank her claws into his thighs. “That hurts, you little troublemaker!”

 

The cat just meowed and Jim shook his head. That was when he noticed something on Titok’s left paw. It seemed to be a wound ‒ the skin was pink and there was no fur on that small portion.

 

“Oh, buddy, what happened to you? Did you get into a fight?”

 

Jim took the ointment from his nightstand, pouting as he stared at the box. He wished Kapelput was around so that he could ask whether the ointment would help the cat. He opened it, then scratched behind Titok’s ear to calm her. She was probably going to scratch him when he’d touch her wound, but maybe this would also help her, as it had helped with Jim’s.

 

“Alright, please don’t claw my eyes out, kitty, but I need to put this on your little paw,” Jim murmured and he carefully rubbed his index finger on the wound.

 

Titok hissed a bit and showed her claws, but she didn’t try to run away, her nose bumping against Jim’s hand. 

 

“That’s it, it’s already done,” Jim reassured the cat, and Titok kneaded Jim’s stomach, making him laugh.

 

“Is that payback for the treatment, Titok?”

 

The cat stretched even further until her paws were on Jim’s chest. She and Jim were staring at each other until Titok licked his cheek, nuzzling her head against Jim’s torso. The vampire hunter laughed, petting her.

 

“Well, I guess you’re also grateful.”

 

She also seemed in a playful mood, battling at Jim’s feet, hooking her claws in his sock, as he tried to put his room in order. Jim laughed and since he had nothing he could use as a toy, he took off his sock. He dangled it in front of Titok who tilted her head, as if she didn’t understand what he wanted, but then she started playing with it, even lying on her back as Jim played with her.

 

“Huh, you’re actually a boy,” Jim said as he looked down at the cat, rubbing Titok’s stomach. He wondered whether Kapelput knew or maybe he didn’t even care. Jim shrugged; it actually didn’t matter. “I hope you still like your name, though.”

 

After a while, Jim’s side started hurting a bit, so he moved to the bed, Titok following him. Jim petted the cat who settled in his lap. His delicate scratches made Titok purr and then he fell asleep like that, Jim smiling at the warm bundle of fur in his lap. 

 

He didn’t move for a couple of hours when Titok finally woke up. He licked Jim’s face again and then disappeared, off to his cat business.

 

* * *

 

After almost two full days of resting, Oswald was ready to return to Jim, as he could feel that the hunter was impatient and lost on his own. He was in the stables, probably tending to his horse. Oswald took his cane for the walk, stopping in the door as Jim hadn’t noticed him yet. Oswald wanted to observe him a bit.

 

Jim was brushing Milady, humming a song to himself. Suddenly, the horse neighed, shaking her head and not letting Jim do his job.

 

“Hey, stop that,” Jim said and the horse calmed for a bit, but then started thrashing again. 

Jim put his hands on his hips, sighing with indignation. “Milady de Winter, I thought I taught you better than this.”

 

Hearing the name, Oswald couldn’t stop himself. “Milady de Winter? Is she named after…?”

 

“The character from  _ The Three Musketeers _ , yes,” Jim said, watching as Oswald stepped inside.

 

“So she’s named after a villain. Interesting.”

 

“A strong and intelligent woman, though. Besides, there weren’t that many girl’s names I could choose from the novel.” Jim’s eyes were raking over Oswald, finally setting over his gloved hands. “How is it?”

 

“I’ll survive, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.  _ Apropos _ , I didn’t know you could read, hunter,” Oswald says and something in his chest fluttered when Gordon scowled at him, his smirk widening.

 

“Very funny. If you must know, I do like reading. A lot, actually,” Gordon said, then returned to brushing his horse. “But haven’t had time. Too busy killing vampires.”

 

Oswald could barely suppress a laugh at the look Gordon threw him. He limped closer, patting Milady’s grey hair while a plan formed in his head.

 

“Well, you should have more time now.”

 

Gordon glared at him again. “Don’t be so sure of your safety, bloodsucker.”

 

Oswald just smiled. He wasn’t, instead he trusted his library to satisfy even the pickiest reader’s taste.

 

* * *

 

The next day, after Jim had breakfast and he returned to his room, he found a key and note on his nightstand.

 

_ I hope you really haven’t forgotten how to read. Please enjoy. _

_ O. _

 

Jim chuckled, because the note was just  _ so  _ Kapelput. Pocketing the key, Jim decided to pay him a visit ‒ although he wasn’t angry, it didn’t hurt reminding the bloodsucker that he couldn’t just talk like that to him. He was quite sure he saw the vampire go to his quarters not long ago. Jim hadn’t been there and he hoped that it might reveal more secrets.

 

The door was slightly ajar and Jim peeked inside. Cobblepot was with his back to him, in the process of getting off his vest.

 

“Come in, Mr. Gordon.”

 

The hunter jumped, but he opened the door, only to notice that the vampire was staring at him from a full length mirror.

 

_ What?  _

 

Without thinking, Jim strode to the mirror, putting his hand against its cool surface and staring at Cobblepot’s face.

 

“How is this possible? Vampires don’t have reflections!”

 

“Well, that may be true of the vampires you know, but honestly, I never had issues with it,” Kapelput smirked, eyebrows rising.

 

Jim looked back then at the mirror and noticed that his palm was right against the vampire’s chest, where his shirt was slightly unbuttoned. His skin was very pale, but the candlelight conferred it a warm tone, emphasising the contrast between his raven hair and fair skin. Jim blushed so profusely that it spread even to his neck and he rubbed at it as he took a few steps away. 

 

“So, what brings you here, hunter?” Kapelput asked as he took off his cufflinks.

 

Jim needed a second to recover, watching as the vampire’s arms flexed. For some reason, he always forgot just how strong Kapelput was; even now Jim could see his muscles flexing under the shirt and he remembered the night Kapelput carried him, as if he weighed nothing. Jim blushed; he probably wasn’t even aware of what the vampire was capable of.

 

Finally, Jim showed the key he was holding. “This. Thank you. Next time try to be less condescending when leaving notes, though.”

 

“My, so sensitive. I was just pulling your leg, Mr. Gordon,” Oswald said with a smile and placed the cufflinks on his nightstand.

 

Jim tilted his head in disbelief. He had a quick look around; the vampire’s room was decorated with a rich, purple tapestry, the furniture was elegant and black, at least a century old. He had a sturdy canopy bed and Jim noticed the covers were half thrown off and the pillows neatly arranged.

 

“Are you going to bed?”

 

“I was about to, before you burst in,” Oswald replied, amused by how flustered Jim became. “I prefer to sleep during the daytime.”

 

“But you don’t really need sleep, right?”

 

“Seldom. Maybe a couple of times a month,” Oswald explained. “It depends on a lot of factors.”

 

Jim nodded. “I see. Sleep well, vampire.”

 

“Thank you, hunter.”

 

Jim threw a last look at Kapelput who resumed unbuttoning his shirt further and the hunter blushed once again, mind fixated on the lean body.

 

* * *

 

Although Jim was alone for the first part of the day, he didn’t feel bored anymore. The weather was nice and he had access to the library as well, discovering that Kapelput had an impressive selection of English novels, so Jim didn’t have to struggle with French.

 

Jim even ventured into cooking an Irish stew he’d learned from Harvey, though he rolled his eyes when the vampire made an appearance, watching him curiously as Jim cut up the piece of mutton, onions, potatoes and carrots. He let it simmer for two hours, during which the vampire had luckily disappeared, so Jim ate alone.

 

The entire day, however, Jim was preoccupied with thoughts about the possible misconceptions he had on vampirism. Here was Kapelput who had proved him wrong on quite many accounts so far, even though Jim didn’t really want to admit that. First, he really seemed to only consume animal blood and then he actually had a reflection… which would change so many things since checking a suspected person for a lack of reflection was one of the oldest methods to reveal a vampire. Jim wasn’t sure if it was because Kapelput actually  _ was  _ a different kind of vampire of because of his dietary preferences. Maybe he should make more inquiries at the bookshop the next he went to the town, whether local vampires behaved differently.

 

While most of Jim’s daytime thoughts focused on important matters regarding vampirism and morality, once he got into bed they drifted and started centering on Kapelput’s reflection and the peek Jim had at his creamy chest. Of course, he tried to brush these thoughts away, and he was successful ‒ for a while. Instead, they tormented his dream as well.

 

Jim and Oswald were sitting at a table, plates and silverware carefully laid out. The vampire was smiling and Jim felt strange, as if he was supposed to know something, but couldn’t remember what.

 

“Where’s the dinner?” he asked and Kapelput’s smile widened comically.

 

“You’ll have something else tonight.”

 

Suddenly, Jim found himself straddling the vampire who had his arms around his waist. He was so beautiful, black hair against pale skin and eyes that bore into Jim’s intensely, as if he could read even his most secret thoughts.

 

“Drink, Jim,” he said and Jim could only focus on his lips, the way they formed words. “Drink from me and join me.”

 

Then Jim noticed the two small wounds on Kapelput’s neck and suddenly, he latched onto them, drinking Kapelput’s blood while the vampire moaned, hands rubbing Jim’s back encouragingly.

 

“That’s it, you’re my vampire now, Jim.”

 

The hunter woke up panting, eyes looking around the dark room with panic. However, it wasn’t just because of the terror that his heart thumped so fast, there was something else as well, a bodily problem which he tried to ignore as he turned onto his stomach and tried to fall back asleep.

 

_ Kapelput wants to turn me into a vampire. That’s his ploy. Not to kill me, but to turn me. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about how late this chapter is! D: The thing is that I wrote it quite a while ago, but wanted to have most of chapter 6 done before posting it. As you could guess, chapter 6 has been giving me some trouble, plus I've also been busier. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy it! Let me know :) 
> 
> As always, massive thanks to Nekomata58919 and skeleton_twins!

“Can I help you with anything, Mr. Gordon?” Kapelput sighed as he put down the pen he was writing with.

 

“I think I finally discovered what your plan is with me,” Jim said, closing the novel he’d been trying to read for the past half an hour, images from his dream haunting him.

 

“Oh really? Let’s hear it.”

 

“It’s quite obvious… you’re trying to butter me up, so that you can then turn me into a vampire.”

 

Kapelput smirked and picked up his pen. “Nice one, Mr. Gordon. Honestly, I just wanted to show you an alternate vampire life. It might change your ideas on vampires and hunting them.”

 

Jim snarled. He didn’t want to admit it, but Kapelput had already made him question a lot of his principles. He got up and stalked to the door.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“Into the city, got some business to do,” Jim replied, not wanting to say that he was headed to the post office.

 

Kapelput seemed pensive. “See you later, Mr. Gordon.”

 

* * *

 

Jim was relieved to see that there was a letter waiting for him at the post office. He thought it’d be safer to have them sent there than to the castle where the nosy Count might read them. He safely hid it in his pocket without reading it.

 

When he got back to the castle, Jim was greeted by Titok at the entrance who followed him easily. The hunter settled by his desk, yelping in surprise when the cat jumped on his lap. 

 

“You should have said something, buddy,” Jim murmured, scratching behind the cat’s ears.

 

He finally took out the letter from his pocket and ripped it open, eager to read news from his friend.

 

_ Dear Jimbo, _

 

_ So glad to hear that you’re still alive, although I must tell you that you’re dumber than I thought. Living with a vampire??? Are you out of your mind?! I don’t really expect to receive any other letters from you, so I am fully prepared to make a trip to Transylvania and wipe out that bloodsucker. _

 

_ Otherwise nothing new here. As always, there’s lots of work in London, so whenever you’re done with your silly mission, you’re welcome to come here and help me. You would not believe it, but apparently there are even establishments where humans can willingly offer their blood to the vampire customers. I suppose that’s better than all the dead they leave behind, but still… This world has gone mad, I’m telling you. _

 

_ In case your Count is a vegetarian vampire, then I hope everything is going well. Maybe he can teach you some tricks that could come in handy when hunting. _

 

_ Harvey _

 

_ P.S: Seen any nice ladies there? _

 

Jim smiled; he really missed his friend and he would have liked to see Harvey’s face when he received the next letter. Titok squirmed in his lap, so Jim let the cat go before he took a blank paper and started composing his reply.

 

* * *

 

Oswald would have gone outside if he could have, but there were still a couple of hours until sunset. He didn’t even realise that he was throwing things around so loudly until the hunter opened the door to his bedroom, confused expression settling on his face at the sight of all the boxes and things lying around.

 

“What’s wrong with you, vampire?”

 

“With me?! I could ask you the same, Mr. Gordon. Have I not been a courteous host to you in the past weeks?”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“Did you really think you needed a contingency plan, hunter?” Oswald asked, stepping in front of Gordon. “Asking your buddy to come and kill me in case he didn’t get your letter. Really, Gordon?!”

 

“How did you-”

 

“Never mind how I know!” Oswald clenched his fists, although the blood flooding the hunter’s cheeks, the shame he felt oozing from Gordon gave him some satisfaction. “How could you do this to me? Also, do you know how unreliable the post is? What if they lost the letter and Bullock came here with his gang to exterminate me? Would you sit back and watch it? Or maybe you’d even help them?!”

 

“No, but how the heck did you know about it, I had the letter on me the whole time.” The hunter was silent for a moment, then the penny dropped. “ _ Titok _ . You’re the fucking cat,” Gordon whispered, raising his eyes to Oswald. Shock was followed by horror, then anger.

 

“How dare you accuse me of going behind your back when you’ve been spying on me all this time?” Oswald let out a whine as the hunter yanked him by his lapels, bringing him closer. 

 

The initial surprise of being so close that he could feel Gordon’s breath on his lips was replaced with hot, blinding anger. Oswald put his hands around Gordon’s wrists, tightening his hold painfully. “I kept an eye on you, to make sure you didn’t accidentally kill yourself.”

 

“Lies! You’re nothing but a liar, Kapelput!”

 

Oswald felt his very core shake with anger and he knew even before Gordon gasped in surprise that his eyes changed red. He pushed the hunter away and caught his reflection in the mirror, the green of his iris replaced with scarlet. This hadn’t happened in decades, as Oswald was always so proud of his calm nature.

 

“There’s the vampire,” the hunter said with a strange mix of smugness and trepidation as he was reaching for the stake in his coat, but stopped as Oswald’s eyes turned back to normal. His heartbeat started slowing down too.

 

“Well, that’s who I am and I can’t change it, even if I wanted to,” Oswald retorted, suddenly feeling very tired.

 

He sat on his bed, rubbing his right knee. “Do you realise what could happen if someone else read your letter instead of your friend? A postal worker, a mailman, or a random stranger. Besides, do you really think it’s your place to reveal that I’m a vampire to any dimwit?!”

 

“Harvey is not a dimwit,” Gordon grumbled, pacing up and down in the room. “I can’t believe I didn’t realise earlier that you’re the cat. The eyes, the fur… even your paw was hurt after you burnt your hand.”

 

Oswald couldn’t help a self-satisfied, dry laugh, delighted in the hunter’s panicked expressions.

 

“Jesus, Kapelput, you slept on my lap!”

 

“Oh yes, that is just as horrible as the impending threat of being massacred,” Oswald added, sniffling.

 

“You won’t be massacred, alright? I’ll call off the thing, this whole deal with Harvey,” Gordon said. “I need time to process this, though.” He hesitated, as if he wanted to say something else, but then he left the room.

 

Oswald sighed and lied down on his bed. His heart still ached with betrayal, but the fact that he could feel the hunter’s guilt made it slightly better. Although he didn’t plan to reveal that he was also Titok, at least not yet, he felt as if a weight had been taken off his mind. Maybe the hunter would understand why he did it and they could forgive each other.

 

* * *

 

Jim pretty much locked himself in his room after the fight he had with Kapelput. As he tried to think about everything that had transpired between them, he was surprised to find that the strongest emotions he felt were embarrassment and mortification. The casual way he had played with cat Oswald, all the snuggling and petting… 

 

Unfortunately, the vampire was right, the worst he had done was to read Harvey’s letter while he actually asked his friend to kill Kapelput in case he didn’t receive any sign of life from him. Jim made good on his promise and rewrote his letter to Harvey. He’d go to the post the next day and send it.

 

* * *

 

After a visit to the post office, Jim remembered that he was also supposed to go to the bookshop to pick up Kapelput’s order as he had promised.

 

“Morning, Jim. You seem upset today.”

 

“Morning, Éva. I am a bit, yes,” Jim admitted as he unbuttoned his jacket, his chest aching again.

 

“Come, let’s have some coffee,” the woman said, beckoning Jim through a door and leading him to a kitchenette.

 

While Éva put on the kettle and got two cups and saucers, she talked about a mix up in orders and how once she ended up with fifty copies of  _ Pamela  _ that no one wanted to buy. Jim was grateful to her for distracting him with a story and he smiled at her animated reenactment of how she had to convince the supplier to take the extra copies back.

 

When the coffee was ready, she poured it into Jim’s cup first, then hers. There was also sugar and milk on the table and Jim put both in his cup. The first sip felt like a blessing and Jim closed his eyes with a sigh.

 

“So, Jim, what happened?” Éva asked delicately. “Is it the Count? I bet he did something silly.”

 

“As always,” Jim grumbled, holding the cup in both hands, warmth seeping into his numb fingers. “He… he kept secret an essential part of his identity from me.”

 

Éva looked up sharply at Jim, eyes wide. Jim didn’t notice her blush as she got up to cut slices of a cake that was on the counter. When she brought the plate over, she looked the usual, but there was an excited sparkle in her eyes.

 

“But what if… what if he thought that this part of him would upset you?”

 

“He would have been right then. Or wait, actually I am more upset that he kept it secret. I don’t know, I’m confused,” Jim sighed, rubbing his face tiredly.

 

“Here, try some kalács,” Éva suggested, trying to cheer Jim up.

 

The hunter looked at the cakes, the beautiful swirls of brown and white. He bit into one, sweetness spreading in his mouth. The walnut filling was very rich and Jim took a sip of coffee with it, suddenly feeling more peaceful.

 

“You know better than me how isolated the Count is. He must have feared that you would leave and he would be alone again.”

 

Jim hated how insightful Éva was, so he just munched on the cake, fingers tracing the flowery pattern of the tablecloth. 

 

“It just seems like he’s made of secrets and I fear that one day the one that he’ll reveal or that will be brought to light will be too terrible.”

 

Éva sighed. “Get to know him, let the Count tell you his secrets. Do you think he’s not tried to share them with someone before?” She didn’t look up as she continued, “I don’t know how things are in America, Jim, but people here aren’t too open-minded… I’m sure he was rejected by others, shunned by society for his… nature.”

 

Jim frowned. Surely, Oswald hadn’t told any human about his vampirism or the fact that he could transform into a cat. The blush high on Éva’s cheek’s rose the hunter’s suspicions. She must have been referring to something else…  _ oh _ . Jim blushed furiously, wondering what theories Éva must think of Kapelput.

 

“Just for the record, he didn’t do… anything to harm me in any way,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“Oh, I didn’t think he did. Besides, you’re a strong man, you’d beat him with your small finger.”

 

Jim laughed at that, mostly because of how untrue that statement was, but no one knew about the vampire’s superhuman powers. However, he still remembered the strong grip of Kapelput’s ice cold fingers around his wrists. “Thank you for the coffee and cake. And the chat, of course.”

 

“Anytime.” Putting the empty cups in the sink, Éva suddenly snapped her fingers. “Before I forget, the books arrived.”

 

Jim followed Éva to the front where she produced a parcel from under the counter. She took them out to check that everything was in order. The first one was some kind of scientific book in German, which was not surprising, of course. However, Éva brought his attention to the two books in her hand.

 

“If you thought he was a serious man… well, you were wrong.”

 

Jim narrowed his eyes as he read the titles. “ _ The Pirate and the Puritan _ … What’s the other one?  _ A Bite to Remember _ ?”

 

Éva snickered. “Romance novels are his guilty pleasure, I guess.”

 

Jim looked at her then started laughing. “Oh, I will have to ask him about this.” He reached for the vampire book, his laughing fit intensifying as he looked at the tacky cover.

 

“Can I tell you something?” Éva asked as she put the books back in the box.

 

“Of course.”

 

“I think the Count not only enjoys reading these novels, but perhaps he also writes them.”

 

Jim threw back his head, he laughed so hard. “That’s… oh my god, that’s entirely possible.”

 

“He’s probably using a pen name,” Éva said, smiling at Jim. “You know, people like him can’t be doing it publicly.”

 

“Of course not. I bet he writes very syrupy books too,” Jim said with a wicked smile and he realised he couldn’t wait to get back to the castle.

 

“You’ll have to tell me if you find anything out,” Éva whispered as he handed Jim the parcel.

 

“Of course. You’ll be the first one,” Jim replied conspiratorially. 

 

* * *

 

On the ride back, Jim thought about what Éva told him. Even though she assumed Jim was referring to Kapelput being a queer ‒ well, he could be, Jim didn’t particularly think about it, he was more concerned with his vampirism ‒ she was still right. The fact that Kapelput could transform into a cat wasn’t such a big deal. He really didn’t do anything bad. Well, he read the letter from Harvey, but that was just invasion of privacy.

 

Jim took the book parcel and knocked on Kapelput’s office door, entering when he said ‘come in’. The vampire was sat by his desk, looking a bit bashful when Jim made his way into the room and sat down in front of him.

 

“Your book order,” Jim said, pushing the parcel towards him.

 

“Thank you for picking it up, Mr. Gordon. I appreciate it.” His tone was stiff and careful at the same time, as if he feared Jim’s reaction but at the same time he wanted to show that he was still slightly indignant over his actions, which convinced Jim that he needed to lighten the mood.

 

“Yeah… I didn’t know you had such an eclectic taste in books,” Jim said, grinning when the vampire looked up at him sharply. “It’s alright, I don’t judge.” Jim held up his hands, still smiling. “Although,  _ A Bite to Remember _ ? Really, Kapelput?”

 

“It’s just research, to see how perceptions on vampires have changed since  _ Dracula  _ was published,” Kapelput replied, his eyes not meeting Jim’s.

 

“ _ Suuure _ .”

 

“It is!”

 

“The vampire doth protest too much, methinks.”

 

“Fine, think whatever you want to, Mr. Gordon.”

 

“Oh, I will. Do you… uh, also write?” Jim asked curiously.

 

Kapelput looked at him with utter confusion. “Well, yes, you’ve seen my notebooks.”

 

Jim fidgeted. “I mean, do you ever write fiction?”

 

Kapelput rubbed his face. “Oh god, I guess you spoke to Éva, haven’t you? I know of her wild theories.”

 

“So it’s not true that you write trashy romance novels?”

 

“No, Mr. Gordon. I just never disputed her theory, because it offers a good cover.”

 

Jim nodded. “Clever. You let everyone make up their own stories about you.”

 

“Something like that. Except for you, Mr. Gordon, you get to see the real me.”

 

Jim couldn’t breathe for a second. “You know I won’t let you fool me,” he said as he got up, feeling like he should make a statement that he didn’t belong to those who fell for the vampire’s charms.

 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

 

“Good,” Jim said, staring into Kapelput’s eyes for several seconds before he left the office.

 

* * *

 

Later that day, Oswald was surprised when Gordon knocked on his door. “Am I bothering you?”

 

“No, of course not. Come in.”

 

“Well, I just, uh, wanted to ask if maybe you wanted to go for a walk?” Gordon rubbed the back of his neck. “Thought I’d let Milady run a bit freely.”

 

Oswald smiled at the hunter’s attempt at making up. “Sure, let me just get my coat.”

 

They were quiet at the beginning, not quite sure how to start the discussion. Milady was happily grazing in the pasture, unaware of their communication difficulties.

 

“So… uh, I wondered, how is it possible that you can turn into a cat?” Gordon finally asked, visibly relieved that he finally got that question out.

 

“Honestly, it took me a while to figure it out. It just… happens? I didn’t get to pick the form or anything,” Oswald said, then smiled. “Though I must say it comes in very handy. The popular belief is that we can transform into ‘impure’ animals, like dogs, rats, cockroaches, owls and so on, but people are usually kind to cats.”

 

“Is it just you? I haven’t heard of other vampires being able to transform into animals.”

 

Oswald shrugged. “I know my friends in France and Germany weren’t capable of doing it. An old friend who used to live nearby thought that it was the belief of the people that granted us this power. Maybe that is the explanation for all the differences between vampires here and in Western Europe and America. Local legends never mention silver being harmful to us, only garlic.”

 

“So garlic can kill you?” Gordon asked with a smirk.

 

“You wish,” Oswald replied, pushing the hunter playfully. “The smell just makes me sick.”

 

“Shame, you’re missing out on garlic bread,” Gordon replied.

 

“You and your appetite, Mr. Gordon.” 

 

Oswald giggled when the hunter glared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“I see all the cakes you come back with from the market. You’re always chomping on something.”

 

“Are you calling me unfit?” Gordon asked in an incredulous tone, hand encircling Oswald’s wrist.

 

“Maybe,” Oswald said, batting his eyelashes at the hunter, just to see his cheeks turn red. The warm fingers around his hand gave him such a nice feeling, even when they tightened. Oswald enjoyed the heat and the pulsing of blood.

 

Despite his blush, however, Gordon leaned in boldly. “How about we race then?”

 

“A human against a vampire? Thought you were cleverer than that, hunter.”

 

“Well, you do have a limp, even though it has improved in the past days.” Oswald was impressed by Gordon’s observational skills.

 

“Alright, if you’re so sure then,” Oswald agreed. “Finishing line is that last tree, at the border with the pasture.”

 

They took up their positions and Gordon counted down. At the beginning, the hunter was able to keep up the pace, but Oswald easily outran him, even with his bad knee. He shot Gordon a cheeky smile. “See, hunter? Too many cakes.”

 

Oswald laughed as he waited for Jim to make it to the finish line, squeaking when the hunter put his hands on his shoulder and pushed him against an old oak tree. Oswald panted as his back hit the tree trunk, Gordon towering over him with a wicked smile, his rising and falling chest practically touching Oswald’s, who was a bit inebriated from the rush of blood.

 

“What did you say, vampire?”

 

A breathy laugh escaped his lips, but Oswald didn’t say anything, just watched mesmerised as the hunter’s beautiful eyes darkened. Gordon got even closer and placed his right hand beside Oswald’s head. His alluring scent, stronger after the run, invaded Oswald’s nostrils and he wanted nothing else than to yank Gordon closer and press his nose in the crook of the hunter’s neck. What was it about it that made Oswald’s brain just go into overdrive?

 

Before he could answer, however, Oswald suddenly became attentive to approaching sounds. He turned his head and craned his neck, smelling the air.  _ Oh no _ . Five people, three of them tipsy, if not drunk, and based on the conversation they were having, they were local hunters.

 

“What’s the matter?” Gordon asked, eyes narrowing.

 

“Hunters, five of them. Probably looking for me,” Oswald said, trying to breath normally. 

 

“Go, return to the castle then.”

 

Oswald grabbed the hunter’s wrist, the icy coldness of panic spreading in his body. “I can’t, they are too close.”

 

“Fuck. What the hell should we do?!” Gordon cursed, raking his fingers through his hair. “Turn into the cat.”

 

“What?”

 

“Turn into Titok,” Gordon urged Oswald. “I’ll hide you in my jacket.”

 

Oswald watched Jim’s face anxiously, trying to read his mind.

 

“Do it, I can hear them too.”

 

Oswald nodded and after Gordon took a step back he concentrated and with the sudden spiralling feeling that always accompanied it, Oswald shrunk into a small black cat. He wanted to speak to Gordon, to give him some advice, but all that came out was a meow.

 

“Alright, alright, come here,” Gordon said as he crouched down and unbuttoned his coat. “Come, they won’t see you here.”

 

Oswald ran towards him and into the warm space between the hunter’s chest and his jacket, looking up at Gordon’s face as he buttoned up again.

 

“Stay quiet, alright?” he said and stroked Oswald’s head, then buttoned up all the way. 

 

Feeling movement, Oswald perked up his head, only to be held in place by the hunter’s gentle hand. “I’m going to get on Milady, in case we need to make a quick escape. Stay calm and don’t meow.”

 

Oswald closed his eyes and hoped for the best. He should have been more attentive and not let himself be so sucked into Gordon’s charms. He knew the hunter was a good man, but what if he betrayed Oswald? What if he exposed him? Hoping for the best, Oswald glued himself to Gordon’s warm body and kept silent.

 

* * *

 

Jim pretended to be loading his gun as the hunters finally appeared, their loud conversation and guffaw dying down as they noticed the lonesome rider.

 

“Evening, gentlemen,” he greeted them, pleased that his voice sounded calm and confident.

 

“On my word… exactly the person we were looking for. James Gordon, right?” one of the man, who looked the most sober, asked.

 

“That would be me, yes.”

 

“We’ve heard about you, actually hoped we’d meet you,” a man with a grey hat said, drinking from his flask.

 

“Really? How so?” Jim asked, trying not to fidget.

 

“We heard you were asking around about vampires and Kapelput, so we put two and two together,” one of them said, laughing, showing off his missing teeth.

 

The others started laughing as well and Jim’s face darkened. Imperceptibly, he pressed a calming hand to his side.

 

“So we thought we’d help you, you know, take Kapelput out if he’s a bloody vampire.”

 

“Stake him,” one of them added, motioning with his hand.

 

“Or burn his heart at the crossroads, as it’s done in these parts,” the drunkest hunter added, clutching the reins of his horse.

 

Jim’s thumb rubbed soothingly against the shivering bump on his chest. He wanted to peer inside so badly, to see if Kapelput was all right, but even if the people in front of him seemed incompetent, he had to be careful. They were hunters, after all.

 

“Listen to me,” he started. “Kapelput is not here, probably somewhere abroad by now. I am staying in his castle, waiting for his return, but so far there was absolutely  _ no  _ sign of him being a vampire.”

 

The hunters were confused by the news and they were about to start arguing or ask questions, so Jim put on his most commanding expression and looked them in the eye.

 

“Besides, if Kapelput is indeed a vampire, _ he is mine _ . Understood?”

 

Although displeased by the statement, the hunters nodded.

 

“I’ve been looking for this vampire who has conspired against me for years, he’s ruined my missions and tried to destroy my reputation,” Jim lied, forcing anger into his voice, which was not hard to do as he recalled some events in his career. “The tracks finally led me to Transylvania. Whether it’s the Count or not, I do not know, but I have to find my enemy. You understand?”

 

“Yes, of course. This got personal for you,” the leader said, nodding. “We’ll keep our eyes and ears open.”

 

“Thank you, appreciate it,” Jim said, hand securely on the cat. 

 

He could feel Oswald’s fast heartbeat even through the material of his coat. Jim’s heart too, was beating fast and his forehead was beaded with sweat.

 

“Alright, we’ll get on our way then.”

 

Jim raised his hand, nodding at the men. He waited for a few minutes until they vanished from his sight, then he slowly unbuttoned his coat, swallowing at the big green eyes watching him. The cat meowed at him and Jim took him out from the safety of his jacket, Oswald instantly nuzzling against his neck, pressing his tiny nose against Jim’s bare skin.

 

The hunter could feel how badly Oswald was trembling and he pressed the cat’s soft head against his cheek. 

 

“You’re safe,” Jim whispered, hoping that his petting would soothe the little animal. “Let’s go home, alright?”

 

Jim smiled at the meow he got as a reply and kept Oswald close to his heart the whole trip back.

 

* * *

 

Once they made it inside the castle, Jim gently settled cat Oswald on the floor who immediately turned into his human form. The hunter looked at him with wide eyes, still trying to understand this strange phenomenon. Kapelput opened his mouth, but words seemed to have frozen in his chest and Jim wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear them anyway.

 

However, just as Jim was about to go upstairs, Kapelput lurched forward and took the hunter’s right hand in his.

 

“ _ James _ ,” the vampire said, voice quivering, and Jim gazed into his eyes, surprised. “That is, Mr. Gordon, please let me to thank you for your kindness.”

 

Jim looked down at their intertwined hands and swallowed. Kapelput didn’t even seem to register it, but his delicate fingers were caressing Jim’s hand. However, the hunter’s attention was caught by Kapelput’s left hand, the burn still visible, but less red. Jim suddenly realised that he wanted to stroke the affected skin, to graze his lips delicately against it, feather light. The shudder the vision produced in him terrified Jim and he sharply pulled his hand away.

 

“You don’t deserve to be killed by those hunters,” Jim said, forcing gruffness in his tone. It didn’t seem to work on Kapelput, though, who still looked at him with an intensity that scared Jim. “They wouldn’t have understood if we had tried to reason with them, they were stupidly drunk.”

 

“You saved my life,” Kapelput said, almost hysterically, eyes shining.

 

Jim blushed, passing a hand over his mouth. “Anyone else would have done it.” He looked once more at the vampire, at his trembling hands, but before he could do something stupid, he nodded. “Good night, Oswald.”

 

* * *

 

Oswald’s hand shot out as the hunter moved towards the stairs, but he stayed rooted to the spot, his heavy heart pinning him. Gordon could have so easily betrayed him, could have had him killed on the spot, but instead he risked his life and reputation in order to save Oswald. He couldn’t breathe with the force of the realisation. He wanted to cry and he wanted to laugh, probably at the same time. 

 

Count Oswald Kapelput knew he was doomed. 

 

He had fallen for Jim Gordon. Completely, madly and irrevocably. 

**Author's Note:**

> At first I thought I would select Bran (Dracula) castle as the inspiration for Oswald's, but it's way too massive. So I went instead with the [Kendeffy castle](http://i209.photobucket.com/albums/bb210/brigysoad/Hobbit%20-%20fanfic/384_1294241802_3-Kendeffy-kast.jpg), which is located in a different county. Sadly, it's in a very shape these days, but it used to look like [this](http://i209.photobucket.com/albums/bb210/brigysoad/Hobbit%20-%20fanfic/627x0.jpg) in its glory days.


End file.
